Little white moment
by Default Jane
Summary: Helena and Hunnigan end up in a classic setting of "snowed in and only have one bed to share"-situation because Hunnigan insists on winning a race between agents to the cabin in the woods despite the approaching snow storm. It's all fun and games until Helena's painful past comes back to haunt her, and it isn't long until she finds herself in all sorts trouble.
1. Chapter 1

Hunnigan wasn't one to usually participate in the "team spirit building days" that director Shepard liked to arrange at least once a year (usually around December since he loved combining the office Christmas party into the same event, like he had this year). "Team spirit building day" was a fancy way of saying "Let's do an activity together for an hour and then get drunk, the D.S.O. is buying". Contrary to what people thought, Hunnigan wasn't against the events because they were a gross misuse of taxpayer money; she was against all forced socializing, always had been. Getting stuck in a room with a bunch of (eventually drunk) colleagues wasn't what she considered "fun".

This year, she'd made an exception after hearing that the mission would be to hike up to a cabin in the woods and then spend the night there, get drunk, and get a ride back home in the morning. Truthfully, she'd done it to protect Helena. She didn't think anything unseemly would happen at the cabin between all the agents, but she knew Helena was still considered a newbie at the very least, or at the worst, some still considered her a traitor to the country for her involvement regarding the events that led to the President's death.

And that all in the most petty possible way summed up to Helena being forced to do the "team work" alone and hike up to the cabin by herself. Helena was the only one who hadn't been assigned a partner to work with at the agency, and she'd seemed rather pleased about it to be honest, but like the agents' daily work, this too could get dangerous if attempted alone.

They weren't all going to just walk up a neat little path for twenty minutes and end up at a luxury cabin, where would be the challenge in that? Each of the six pairs of agents were to be dropped off at undisclosed locations in the woods and they'd be given the same tools to navigate their way to the cabin, whoever got there first won the race and got to sleep in the bed... because it wasn't a luxury cabin, it was what could be sold with the word "comfy", which was a nicer way of saying it was about the size of a shoe box and had only one bed; the pairs coming in second or later would have to settle for sleeping bags on the floor.

All the agents wore a GPS tracker so they could be found if they did manage to get themselves lost, so that was a thin comfort of sorts, but Hunnigan had no intention of losing the race. Everyone was expecting her to, of course they were, she wasn't even a field agent, but she was determined to make sure that after this year's event, no one would ever underestimate a competitive and skilled (if only in theory) desk jockey.

The agents were mixed up a little so that everyone had someone else's partner for today, an exercise to encourage making friends with other people than just the ones you saw daily. Hunnigan made her way over to Helena before it would become obvious no one else would. Not getting picked had a way to hurt in more ways that one would imagine such a small act of being excluded would.

 _Or maybe I'm just projecting my own insecurities, and Helena would be just fine without me,_ Hunnigan mused. Way back when she'd been the runt with the glasses, she'd accumulated a ton of experience on being the last one to get picked and on just how bad it felt. That was also when she'd learned she had a burning passion to show everyone what happened when you underestimated Ingrid Lee Hunnigan. Most of the time she got her chance to show off by managing to be the one who had saved the game by to scoring the one more point the team had needed to win. Not always, that kind of thing only happened in inspirational Lifetime-movies.

Hunnigan hadn't noticed how ridiculously competitive she could be until she'd realized she'd spent most of her youth playing sports just for the joy of proving everyone wrong, not because she'd particularly enjoyed the game. She still remembered the moment it had dawned on her. After her growth spurt, it had become all too obvious that basketball was the sport she should be playing, because what else could a 6′ 1″ girl do, she sure as hell wasn't going to be a figure skater or a ballet dancer (at least that was how her mother had presented the case to her). It had made sense at the time, she hadn't been bad at the game, on the contrary, it was what had earned her a scholarship, but her main motivation to play was gone when she realized she had nothing to prove.

 _I am not enjoying this at all._

The thought had sped through her mind with the subtlety and force of a freight train after a game her team had won. She'd never enjoyed the sport as much as she'd enjoyed proving people wrong (a charming personality trait in anyone, she was sure), but there was no one to prove wrong anymore because no one was underestimating her. If anything, it was the other way around, they expected her to do a great job just because she was the tall girl. Meeting people's unwanted expectations wasn't much of an incentive.

So, she'd quit and focused on doing things she enjoyed, things that challenged her enough to keep her interested. There wasn't much use for her competitiveness in her line of work, but when an opportunity for clear, direct competition (such as a little race to the cabin in the woods - intentionally ominous, director Shepard had found it hilarious but he was a strange man in many ways) was there, she wasn't about to pass it up, especially because she knew no one would expect her to win the race.

 _Well, me and Helena. The two underdogs with a vicious bite. Team work for the win. Okay, I'm getting ahead of myself, maybe she doesn't care enough to make an effort to win and then I'll be pissed off,_ Hunnigan mused as she and Helena were dropped off at their starting location.

"Three minutes and we can move," Helena said after checking her watch.  
"Okay. Ready to kick some ass?" Hunnigan asked and Helena chuckled.

"I'll hold them down, you beat them up."

* * *

Helena admitted she wasn't at her best currently; after what had happened this summer, she'd spent a lot of time slumped in a depression which had manifested as her not bothering to take care of herself like she'd used to. She'd eaten poorly, drank too much, smoked too many cigarettes, and half-assed her training sessions during the three days of the week when close quarter combat-training and other physical fitness-training were mandatory at the agency. She hadn't begun getting better about it until a couple of weeks ago, and months of inactivity were showing easily.

"Would you slow the hell down?" Helena humphed as she tried to keep up with Hunnigan who vaulted herself over a fallen log with ease, her legs not even touching the layer of fluffy snow on top of it.  
"I'd rather you hurried up," Hunnigan responded but paused to wait for Helena to make her way over the log as well, only she didn't do quite as graceful a job of it as Hunnigan had done.

"It's easy for you to say, you've got legs up to your tits, I gotta take three steps where you only gotta take one," Helena argued and defiantly stopped to dig a bottle of water from her backpack and took a long swig from it as Hunnigan stood by, impatiently shifting her weight from one long leg to the other.

"We're almost there, the sooner you hurry up and move, to sooner we get to the cabin."

Helena agreed that she'd rather get there before it got really dark and before the wind escalated to a storm, it was unpleasant as it was, the force of it turning the flakes of snow into icy needles that pelted her face. Within the next half an hour, it had turned into a full-blown storm, Helena and Hunnigan making it to the cabin barely before the worst of the storm hit.

"Well, look at that, we're the first ones here," Hunnigan said rather happily.

"I bet the others turned back when they saw the storm coming," Helena mumbled. Considering how fast Hunnigan had insisted they make their way over to the cabin, Helena was ready to assume the others had barely gotten started making their way over when the storm had hit since Hunnigan was probably the only one who had actually cared about winning the race. Helena was willing to bet serious money that Leon was still at the drop off point with Sherry, getting drunk while Sherry busied herself by texting with Jake Muller.

"Maybe so, but I don't care; I win, I rule," Hunnigan said and did what Helena assumed was her victory dance, and the way she moved would've made Michael Jackson proud. Helena chuckled and kicked off her shoes before removing her jacket.

"Well, Shepard certainly put some effort to catering," Helena said as she looked around the kitchenette. There were several bags of various chips on the counter, a few cases of beer on the floor, various bottles of rum, vodka and whiskey, several large bottles of soda, and three gallons of water. She peeked into the fridge and found milk, butter, cheese, and a large tray of lasagna, covered in plastic wrap. She assumed Shepard had intended for that to be dinner once everyone had made it to the cabin.

"Oh, great," Hunnigan said sarcastically from across the room. She sat on the couch, her legs crossed, one foot tucked under her thigh for warmth while she rubbed the other with her hand, holding her phone in the other.  
"What's wrong?" Helena inquired and grabbed a beer from the fridge and replaced it with a warm one.

"Shepard sent a message to go back because the storm is supposedly going to get really bad."  
"Well, seems we were right about the others then."

"I let him know we're already here, so they won't worry or waste time looking for us, and he said it might take a day or two before they can come pick us up."  
"There's plenty to eat and drink, I think we'll be fine. Or we can probably try hiking back in the morning if you feel like it? I have full confidence in your navigational skills," Helena smirked.

"Yeah, maybe. Let's see how it goes in the morning," Hunnigan said and put the phone away.  
"Indeed, so how about we just relax and enjoy winning the race, huh?" Helena suggested and offered Hunnigan a can of beer.  
"Cheers."


	2. Chapter 2

"Okay, okay... never have I ever... gone ass-to-mouth," Helena said and Hunnigan raised the can of beer as if to take a drink, which was the way of saying "I have done that" according to the rules of the game. Helena's eyes widened at the gesture.  
"I'm joking!" Hunnigan laughed and put the can down.

"I'm not sure I believe you," Helena smirked.  
"As if I would ever do something like that. Besides, my ass is exit only."

"Who said it had to be your ass?" Helena quirked an eyebrow.  
"Ew, that's nasty!" Hunnigan laughed, finished her beer and popped open another one. They'd been drinking for a couple of hours now and they'd finished the cold ones in the fridge, but at this point, the temperature of the beer didn't really matter.

"Never have I ever... been arrested," Hunnigan then said and Helena drank from her beer.  
"I was thirteen and shoplifting, but I only took food and candy so I just got a small fine for it," she explained. "Never have I ever needed glasses."

"Low blow," Hunnigan scoffed and drank from her beer. "Never have I ever shoplifted," she then shot back and Helena chuckled.

"I'm running out of things I haven't done," Helena said and belched from the corner of her mouth, not bothering with manners at this point of the night, she was relatively certain Hunnigan was more than familiar with normal bodily functions that followed from drinking excessive amounts of beer.

"Same, maybe we should switch to another game."  
"Who would you rather have sex with: Leon or Shepard?" Helena began and Hunnigan snorted, a dribble of beer leaking from her nose.

"Um... don't tell this to him, but Leon. I have a valid reason for why him," Hunnigan answered and wiped her face with her hand.  
"Which is?"

"Shepard comes across as the type of a man who would be like 'I'm gonna fuck you so hard your womb ends up in your ribcage!' and that would kill me. Whereas Leon comes across as the type of a guy who would actually take direction," Hunnigan explained, and Helena burst out laughing.

"I see your point."  
"What about you, who would you rather?"

"Neither."  
"Come on, that's not how this game works!"

"You're just bummed out because you didn't think to say that when I asked," Helena taunted.  
"No, I'm bummed because you're not playing by the rules," Hunnigan said.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't sleep with either one because I'm a lesbian the thought of any guy trying to put his dick in me grosses me out and, frankly, makes me a bit angry. I'm sorry, but dicks are nasty-looking. Not to mention I've heard too many horror stories about men and their lack of basic hygiene to be able to even look at a man without assuming he's got skid marks in his undies," Helena made a face.

"Well, you're probably not completely wrong," Hunnigan chuckled. "But I will say my ex-husband has a beautiful penis."  
"Are you trying to make me throw up?"

"I'm serious! It wasn't too vein-y or oddly discolored or weirdly shaped like most of the dicks I've had the displeasure of seeing."  
"See a lot of dicks then?" Helena smirked.

"I don't understand why men think women want to see their dicks, but I hope I scared a few guys badly enough to discourage them from ever sending unsolicited dickpics again."  
"Oh yeah? What did you do?"

"I responded with a picture of a used tampon."  
"That is genius," Helena laughed.

"I thought so too until I ran into a guy who asked me to send more. And that's when I quit trying to date online," Hunnigan chuckled.  
"Once again, I am so... so happy I'm a lesbian."

"So, you're saying women can't be nasty? Because I refuse to believe that."  
"No, you're right, women can be just as bad, or at least very nearly as bad," Helena trailed off, becoming oddly serious suddenly. Hunnigan frowned and was about to question it when the lights flickered and the power went out.

The cabin was equipped with most modern amenities but there was also a wood-burning stove which doubled as a heater for the winter, a fact for which Helena and Hunnigan became very grateful for rather quickly.

"Well, now I'm thinking we shouldn't have had that much beer considering how easily it runs through you," Helena pursed her lips and slowly began to make her way over to her backpack to dig out a flashlight.  
"You do realize toilets work with gravity and water, not electricity?" Hunnigan pointed out.

"Yes, but the pump which gets water from the well and into the tank from which the toilet gets its water works with electricity, meaning that once that tank is empty, we're outta water," Helena explained, turned the flashlight on and pointed it toward the ceiling, the light reflecting from the wood illuminating the entire room.

"Oh, crap, you're right. Well, if it's any consolation, the pump did just go off not long ago, so the tank's probably nearly full."  
"That's good news, we'll just have to ration the water," Helena nodded and went to grab a few pieces of firewood from the large wooden crate set in the corner of the room.

"It'll be fine, besides, I'm tired, I think I'll just call it a night, so I won't be wasting any more water today," Hunnigan shrugged as Helena worked to light a fire in the pit to keep the cabin warm through the night.  
"That works," she nodded and closed the cast iron hatch once she'd gotten the fire going. Hunnigan disappeared into the small bathroom to brush her teeth while Helena went to unroll her sleeping bag.

"You don't have to sleep on the floor," Hunnigan said when she emerged from the room and saw what she was doing.  
"I wasn't planning to, there's a perfectly good couch right here," Helena chuckled.

"I meant we can share the bed if you want," Hunnigan rolled her eyes.  
"It's fine. We got here early because you have a disturbingly wide competitive streak, so the bed's all yours, you've earned it," Helena smiled.

"Suit yourself. Good night," Hunnigan said and went to the bedroom.

Helena folded her jacket into a makeshift pillow, slipped into the sleeping bag and zipped it up. She closed her eyes, silently wondering how long it would take before the cabin would get cold. Judging from the draft, not very long after the fire was burnt out. Wood popped and shifted in the stove. The wind made quiet whistling sounds as it rattled through the small cracks in the walls, the noise of it melding into the soft hum of the flames. Helena relaxed and let the sounds drift her off to sleep.

* * *

Hunnigan was the first to wake up, feeling a bit thirsty thanks to drinking last night, and feeling more than a bit cold. The fire had been out hours ago and the cold wind had stolen the warmth from the cabin shortly after. She got up, got dressed and grabbed the blanket, draping it over her shoulders and wrapping it around herself.

"Oh, damn..." she exclaimed quietly when she emerged from the bedroom and realized it had been snowing the entire night and there was a pile of the white fluff reaching up high enough to cover the windows nearly completely.

"What?" Helena jolted awake and sat upright in an instant, her hand reaching toward the small coffee table on which she'd left her handgun. Hunnigan didn't question why Helena evidently couldn't sleep without having a loaded gun nearby, but she was relatively certain it had something to do with Helena's traumatic experience of having been kidnapped in the middle of the night from her home by Simmons's men.

"I don't think we're going anywhere for a while," Hunnigan nodded toward the windows. Helena put the gun away and ran a hand over her face, pausing to vigorously rub her eyes.  
"Well, we could dig our way out I guess," she suggested and yawned. Hunnigan went to the door and examined it for a moment.

"Yeah, except the door opens outward meaning it's blocked," she said and confirmed her suspicion by trying to push the door open. It didn't budge.  
"I could remove the door from its hinges if I can find something to use as a tool."

"Another good idea except the hinges' screws are accessible only if the door is open," Hunnigan pointed out.  
"At least tell me the power is back on."

"I haven't checked, but I'm guessing it isn't. It's too quiet."  
"Quiet?"

"Yeah. There's a very subtle high pitched noise that's present when there's power, you wouldn't notice it until it's gone and you realize how quiet it is... like right now," Hunnigan said and flicked the light switch back and forth to make sure. The light remained off.

"So, I guess we're stuck here for a while longer," Helena mumbled, stood up and stretched, her T-shirt hitching halfway up her midsection as she raised her arms, revealing a row of scars crossing diagonally across her abdomen, healed puncture wounds which looked rather severe, leaving Hunnigan wondering how Helena had not gotten ripped to shreds by whatever had caused them. Helena noticed Hunnigan's stare and tugged the hem of her shirt down.

"I got these back in Tall Oaks when Leon and I almost got eaten by some weird mutated fish-shark-thing," she explained and shuddered involuntarily at the memory of being dragged underwater by the creature.  
"Yes, I remember reading about it in your report, but I hadn't realized how bad it was," Hunnigan said.

"Yeah, well... I lived," Helena dismissed with a chuckle, excused herself and headed over into the bathroom while Hunnigan went to get the fire going again. After managing it, she rummaged through the cabinets in the kitchenette, growing increasingly worried when it was beginning to look like she wouldn't find any coffee.

"There you are!" she sighed in relief when she found the unopened package in the back of the cabinet behind the eggs, flour, bread, sugar and jam.  
"I think we need to find a cold spot for the stuff in the fridge, the last thing we need is for the food to spoil," Helena mumbled after emerging from the bathroom.

"The bedroom has a narrow ventilation window which opens inward, we could put some stuff on the window pane."  
"Excellent," Helena agreed and opened the fridge, took out the food and carried it to the other room.

Hunnigan put water into a pot and left it on the stove while she detached the filter basket from the coffee maker and prepared the grounds. Once the water boiled, she held the basket over the decanter and poured water over the grounds, and waited for it to drip through.

"Here you go," she smiled and handed a mug of coffee to Helena once it had finished brewing.  
"Oh, nice, thank you!" the younger woman accepted it happily and returned to the bedroom to pour some milk into her mug. Hunnigan drank her coffee black. She went to the table by the window and grabbed her phone. There was no service.

"Damn it," she sighed and switched the phone to power saving mode.  
"What's wrong?"

"Phone's out. How's yours?"  
"Useless as well," Helena said after checking. "But, Shepard knows we're here, I'm sure he's working to get us extracted as we speak. Granted, it might take a while since it seems the storm isn't letting up," she then said and took a seat at the chair by the table.

"I know, I'm not worried about that. Frankly, I'm enjoying the chance to take a break," Hunnigan said and sat on the table, peering outside over the generous amount of snow piled over the window.  
"So, what's the problem?" Helena inquired.

"I was supposed to call my son. I don't think Shepard's necessarily realized to inform Major about the situation, so they might not know I'm out of reach for now..."  
"Major who?" Helena frowned, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Hunnigan had a child; she couldn't say why but Hunnigan wasn't the kind of a person who came across as the motherly-type. Granted, Helena had to admit she hadn't known Hunnigan very well or very long, so she probably wasn't in a position to make accurate assumptions about her.

"Major as in the ex with the beautiful penis I told you about," Hunnigan elaborated with a smirk.  
"His name is Major?"

"I know, I know, don't look at me, I didn't name him," Hunnigan chuckled into her coffee before taking a sip.  
"Does he have a little brother named Minor?" Helena asked and Hunnigan's laughter erupted as a sharp exhale through her nose which sprayed coffee back over her face.

"Oh, God," she coughed and laughed as she wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"So, you and Major Pretty Cock have a kid?" Helena inquired after Hunnigan had gotten herself together, and Hunnigan nodded. She unlocked her phone and dug up the photos.

"His name is Seeley, he's two years old," she said and showed Helena a picture of the child. In the photo, he sat on the floor on a colorful carpet, a generous amount of large Lego blocks scattered around him. He was smiling happily to the camera from behind his fist which he appeared to be trying to fit into his mouth whole.

"He looks so much like you it's absurd," Helena smirked and Hunnigan laughed.  
"Yeah, well, at least I know for sure that he's mine," she jested.

"So, considering how young Seeley is, I'm assuming your divorce is recent."

"Major and I were divorced before I even realized I was expecting. Seeley was conceived during one of those classic 'Let's have sex once more for old times' sake before I move out the last box of my things'-occasions. Admittedly, not one of my proudest moments, but I have no regrets regardless," Hunnigan disclosed, unsure why she told all of this to Helena, it wasn't like her to divulge personal information (especially if it was this sensitive) to another with such ease.

"Was it a messy divorce?" Helena asked and took a sip of her coffee. It was beginning to get cold.  
"No, there were no hard feelings or drama, we just... went our separate ways."

"Oh, come on, that's boring, didn't you fight even just a little?" Helena teased and Hunnigan smiled.  
"Occasionally we argued over little things, sure, but no fighting. I think that was part of the problem."

"How so?" Helena frowned.  
"Because there was no passion, I'm passionate only after someone brings it out in me. Like, normally, I'm lukewarm, but I can be brought to a boil. He just never did that because Major is exactly the same as I am in that respect, so there was no fire, no energy, no passion. A marriage between two bores is bland."

"I get it, I'm the opposite, I'm likely to boil over unless someone cools me down."  
"Well, I did once threaten to burn down a diner after they served my onion rings smothered in ketchup, but I was pregnant at the time, so it was probably just the hormones," Hunnigan recalled and Helena laughed at the mental image of Hunnigan doing that.

"I've never before heard about a couple breaking up because they _don't_ fight."  
"Hah, maybe so, but that's what happened," Hunnigan smiled.

"How long were you two together?"  
"About six years. Imagine how shocked and appalled my parents were when we divorced. After all, there is something so very pathetic about a divorced woman near her mid-thirties, especially if she has a kid," Hunnigan rolled her eyes at the memory of the remarks her mother had made.

"Let me guess; it went something along the lines of 'who's gonna have you now' and 'he's a good man and a good father, who cares about passion'. How am I doing?"  
"Eerily well, spoken like someone who has experience on the matter," Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow.

"For me the commentary went something along the lines of 'just find yourself a nice young man to look after you and forget this nonsense about liking girls, it's unnatural'. I find young men unnatural," Helena said.  
"All I can really say from personal experience is that you will like yourself better when you stop listening to other people when they tell you what you should like. It took me a long time to realize that," Hunnigan said quietly.

"I'll drink to that," Helena said and clinked her coffee mug against Hunnigan's.

"So, now that you're up to date about my non-existent love life, you tell me about yours. Got a girl waiting for you at home?"  
"Naw. Where your problem was not enough passion, mine is the opposite; I have terrible temper and people don't generally find that an attractive trait," Helena smirked ruefully.

"If I ever figure out a way to trade personality traits with others, I'll gladly give you some of my boring dispassion if you give me some of your fire."  
"Deal," Helena chuckled. She got up and went to add more wood into the stove to keep the cabin warm.

"What do you wanna do today? Not that there's a lot we can do being stuck in here," Hunnigan then asked. Helena pondered on it for a moment and grinned when an idea came to her.  
"Well, I know something that'll keep us entertained for a couple of minutes," she said as she rummaged through her backpack. She finally reached the object at the bottom and pulled it out.

"A book?"  
"Not just any book, a terrible romance novel."

"You read romance novels?" Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow in disbelief.  
"Hey, don't judge, they're brilliant if they're well-written, but sadly, a lot of them aren't. That said, the bad ones are funny as hell. Just say the word and I will do a dramatic reading for your entertainment," Helena said and wiggled her eyebrows.

"This has all the makings of a good time. Go for it."


	3. Chapter 3

"' _I fingered and licked his nipples, and ran my tongue down his washboard abs. I undid the buttons of his jeans that had gotten too small for his manhood. He had a beautiful straight penis which pointed directly to the ceiling',_ " Helena read and paused for a moment to glance at Hunnigan. "Did you write this?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"Even if I had, I'd never admit it," Hunnigan laughed.  
"All right, where were we... _'His erection was huge and I wrapped my fingers around his love tool and more blood rushed into it. I began to take care of him with my hand and he moaned in French'_."

"How does one moan in French? I'm so confused right now. I thought I was fluent in French but I don't think I know how to moan in French," Hunnigan interjected and Helena let out an amused scoff but didn't comment.

 _"'I bent over and licked the tip of his sweet love arrow. I was worried I wouldn't be able to fit his huge maleness into my mouth even but the excitement of the situation made it so easy that I managed to get his sword almost all the way, deeper than I ever had before. Lust fogged my mind and I sucked on his member faster until he picked me up. I straddled him and rubbed my passion-moistened petals against his-'"_

"Passion-moistened petals!" Hunnigan guffawed.  
"I know, right? Why not just say 'pussy' and be done with it."

"I'm not a fan of that word either, but I agree, it would be better than the petal-thing."  
"I'm sure it gets worse," Helena said, cleared her throat and continued reading.

" _'...passion-moistened petals against his penis and kissed him. He was a very good kisser and groped my ass while we kissed. I couldn't hold on any longer so I guided his fiery brand to my glistening portal. I began riding him faster, the length of his huge throbbing manhood rubbed my G-spot and I rubbed my clit with my fingers. He saw how close to coming I was and it aroused him even more. I began to moan-'_ "

"In French or English?" Hunnigan interjected and Helena smiled but didn't comment.

" _'...moan as the first wave of my orgasm reached me. It went on and on and my moans made him climax and we came together.'_ "

"C'est la chose la plus stupide que j'ai jamais entendue," Hunnigan rolled her eyes.  
"Well, now you're just showing off. Also, I understood none of that."

Hunnigan smiled but made no effort to translate what she'd said, and Helena didn't ask.  
"Are you hungry?"she then asked and Helena nodded, putting the book away. Hunnigan got up and checked the cabinets for the ingredients to make sure they had everything.

"Bring me the milk from the bedroom, would you?" she requested and Helena went to grab it while Hunnigan measured flour into a bowl and cracked a couple of eggs into it. She then added the milk, mixed it all together and added a pinch of salt.  
"We'll have crêpes in no time," she said and took out a cast iron skillet from the cabinet. "And they are going to be delicious, I guarantee it," she added and Helena quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh, really?"  
"Yeah! You don't know what tasty is until you've had crêpes cooked on wood stove and in a cast iron skillet with real butter, just like grandma used to make," Hunnigan smiled.

"My grandma was an alcoholic and also a devout Catholic who believed it was okay to act like the devil himself for a week and then wash it all away once a week in Mass," Helena mumbled.  
"Oh..." Hunnigan said softly, glancing at Helena, unsure what to say exactly.

"She didn't like me because I kept getting in trouble and because I proudly proclaimed my lesbianism as soon as I was old enough to know what a lesbian is," Helena scoffed. "She had a wooden hairbrush the size of a damn tennis racket, and she wasn't afraid to use it when I misbehaved. Only, in her opinion, my existence was synonymous to misbehaving so I got hit a lot," she continued and seemed to visibly snap out of the memories, straightening her back and sitting up properly.

"Sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you this," she chortled awkwardly.  
"You can tell me anything," Hunnigan assured and put the skillet onto the stove. She went to grab a stick of butter, unwrapped it and coated the skillet's surface with butter before pouring in the batter. She then shook the skillet in a circular motion to spread the batter into an even, thin layer and let it cook.

"You know, as far as I know, the Catholic church doesn't actually have anything against homosexuality, it's the gay sex they consider a sin because it's a selfish indulgence since there's no chance of procreating. So, if you're celibate, you're fine as far as the church is concerned," Hunnigan mused and flipped the crepe.  
"Well, shit, I wish I'd know that before. How did you get to be so knowledgeable about everything?" Helena chuckled softly. She could ask any random thing and Hunnigan would just know some fact about it for sure.

"I like proving people wrong which means I need to do a lot of research, and after all that trouble of learning the facts, they tend to stick with me," Hunnigan explained, plated the crêpe and sprinkled some sugar on it while it was still hot, the grains melting on the surface of the thin pancake.

"I don't think grandma would've really listened to facts, it wasn't like her," Helena laughed a little.

"So... what exactly happened to your parents?" Hunnigan inquired, hoping it wouldn't be too forward. She had read Helena's file and knew only that they had passed away when Helena had been five years old, but there hadn't been details mentioned.

"They died in a car crash. When grandma would get drunk enough, she'd tell me my dad had done it on purpose. She didn't say why he would've, but of course, it was implied that she believed it was somehow my fault."  
"I seriously doubt she was right about that."

"I agree, but you know how it is, sometimes the way a person's mind works doesn't make sense, so of course I believed her."  
"Well, you have a point," Hunnigan agreed quietly and stacked the second crêpe over the other before preparing a third.

"When I turned seventeen, grandma practically signed me up in the military before I'd even blown out the candles on my birthday cake. Kidding, I didn't get a cake," Helena smirked. She told Hunnigan she'd gone to Afghanistan, and Deborah had stayed with her friends before going to university and moving into the dorms. Eventually, her grandmother had passed away in her sleep, her heart had given out.

"I was sure her liver would be the first to go, but no. Better that way, I guess, at least she didn't have to suffer," Helena shrugged one shoulder a little, her tone of voice rather indifferent. Hunnigan couldn't imagine it was easy to not wish ill toward someone who spent the entire time they knew you putting you down and being physically abusive.

"Enough about my sucky life, tell me about you," Helena then said. Hunnigan finished the last crêpe and moved the skillet to the side before taking the plate over to the table by the window.  
"Oh, not a lot to tell," Hunnigan began, went to grab milk to drink with their breakfast and brought over the jam from the cabinet.

"Indulge me, I know nothing of you," Helena requested, spread strawberry jam on her crêpe and then rolled it up before taking a bite.  
"How far back do you wanna go?" Hunnigan chuckled.

"Well, start from your parents, what are they like?"  
"My parents emigrated from the Dominican Republic in the late seventies... and just as I'm saying this, I'm realizing I might just be an anchor baby," Hunnigan smirked and Helena laughed a little.

"There are worse things to be. Also, you weren't joking, these crêpes are to die for!" Helena exclaimed and began to devour a third one.  
"Glad you like them," Hunnigan smiled. "My dad's a cop and my mom's a teacher. I have a younger brother, his name is Nolan. As for me, well, I studied programming in college and afterward I worked at the FBI as a network engineer before the DSO was formed and I was hand-picked to work there as an intelligence officer."

"So, where does Major come in?" Helena grinned.  
"He's an FBI special agent who goes around breaking up human trafficking rings and taking down drug cartels. You know, for someone who is so boring as a person, he has a very interesting job. Same can be said about me," Hunnigan laughed and grabbed another crêpe.

"I don't think you're boring."  
"That's because you've been stuck with me only for a day," Hunnigan snorted amusedly.

* * *

"The bedroom is freezing," Hunnigan gasped as she emerged from the room two seconds after entering.

"Well, we did use it as a fridge," Helena laughed. She hadn't gotten into her sleeping bag yet, she was still putting firewood into the stove for the night to keep them warm. The thermometer screwed on the wall by the window said the temperature had dropped to 5°F, Helena assumed it might be even lower since the thermometer was covered with a layer of snow which ironically could be keeping it warmer than it was.

"Bring the mattress over here," Helena suggested.  
"I can't, there isn't one. I mean, there is a mattress topper over the box spring but it's practically useless as far as comfort and support goes."

"You can take the couch and I'll sleep on the floor, I've got my sleeping pad with me, so I can use that and be fine."  
"I can't ask you to do that."

"You didn't, I offered," Helena smiled and grabbed her sleeping bag, preparing to move it onto the floor but Hunnigan put her hand over Helena's arm.  
"Or, we could do the sensible thing and you give me the sleeping pad and put it over the almost useless mattress topper."

"Or..! Or... wait for it..." Helena drawled and Hunnigan humphed, amused by the unnecessary dramatic pause.  
"Or you could just get in the sleeping bag with me, that way we'll even keep each other warm through the night," she finished her sentence and shrugged one shoulder a little.

"You're going to regret inviting me when you realize my feet are icicles and nothing helps. I guess it's because I'm so tall, my heart isn't strong enough to pump blood way the hell down there."  
"Not a problem," Helena assured and dug into her backpack, rummaging around it for a moment before triumphantly pulling out a pair of dark gray wool socks. "Well, I mean, this helps with cold feet, not your heart," she elaborated with a crooked smile.

"Unbelievable," Hunnigan laughed.  
"Believe it," Helena nodded and handed the socks to her. "I always come prepared. Hey, there's a new way to pass the time; try to guess what's in my backpack," she chuckled then and stripped her outerwear before sliding into the sleeping bag.

"Something to do over coffee in the morning," Hunnigan agreed and undressed too before putting on the socks.  
"Damn! You're like... ripped!" Helena's eyebrows rose when she got a chance to take in the fact that Hunnigan had a runner's body. She didn't even know why it had never occurred to her that Hunnigan would be the athletic type outside office hours.

"I do a lot of yoga because if I don't, my back will kill me. When I was expecting Seeley, I had to stay at the hospital for a couple of weeks because I couldn't walk. The way the pregnancy was reshaping my everything messed my back pretty badly and I had to use a walker to get around," Hunnigan said and slipped into the sleeping bag.

"That sounds terrifying," Helena said.

They took a moment to find a comfortable position and after a while of awkwardly shuffling and scooting around, they finally settled down, Hunnigan spooning Helena.

"It was, but once I passed the first trimester I was allowed to do yoga and other exercises, so that helped. Since then, it became kind of a hobby. Not that I have a lot of time for those nowadays with how my work is and with Seeley, but still."  
"Well, I'm glad it works for you. Ah, this is good, you're so warm and comfy," Helena sighed, pressing her back tighter against Hunnigan.

"Right back at you. Good night," Hunnigan smiled. Helena mumbled a response and closed her eyes. However, there was one thing she couldn't let go without an adjustment. She interlaced her fingers with Hunnigan's and moved her hand a little so that it was no longer resting over Helena's lower abdomen.

Hunnigan didn't seem to pay attention and Helena knew she was being ridiculous and a bit shallow, but truthfully, she didn't want Hunnigan to be able to feel the round softness which had accumulated on her belly over the past few months. Helena knew she didn't really look like she'd put on weight and most of it had gone to her breasts, and she also knew no one else would even care, but _she_ cared, and it made her oddly self-conscious.

It was silly. If the person who had gained weight were someone else, she wouldn't give a good God damn because it didn't matter, it didn't change anything. But when it was herself, she was oddly embarrassed.

 _I'm being weird,_ she thought before drifting off the sleep, still holding Hunnigan's hand in her own.


	4. Chapter 4

Helena woke up and blinked slowly as she took a moment to remember where she was. At some point in the night, she had turned around and was now facing Hunnigan, her head tucked underneath Hunnigan's chin, their arms around each other. She then became aware of the fact that Hunnigan was gently stroking her back in slow, smooth movements. Helena smiled a little and closed her eyes for a while longer, deciding to take a moment to enjoy the warmth and coziness of being cuddled up with Hunnigan.

"You awake?" Hunnigan whispered.  
"Yeah."

"Okay. I was worried, I think you were having a nightmare, but I didn't want to wake you."  
"I was? I don't remember any of it," Helena mumbled.

"Probably better that way. Sometimes when I have those, they leave me feeling all jittery for the entire day," Hunnigan commented.

"Thanks for holding me, though."  
"Anytime," Hunnigan chuckled. "I do think I owe you an apology, you wouldn't be stuck here if it weren't for me," she added.

"I've actually had a really good time, so I think I should be thanking you. I know you like think you're boring, but actually, you're really good company," Helena smiled.  
"I'm sure you'll change your mind if we end up being stuck in here for like a month," Hunnigan jested and Helena pulled back a little to be able to look at her.

"I doubt that," she said. "I need to use the bathroom but I don't want to get up, I'm so warm and comfortable here," she then sighed.

"Same," Hunnigan said and also made no effort to get up. Helena noted Hunnigan was still caressing her back. She didn't dare to mention it because she worried Hunnigan would stop if she did. Instead, she relaxed in Hunnigan's arms, enjoying the warm hand caressing her skin.

"I know I'm staring, but I can't help it, I'm only just now realizing how blue your eyes are, and that you have... like... eyelashes and everything," Helena said sheepishly and Hunnigan laughed softly.  
"Most people do," she pointed out.

"You know what I mean, I'm not used to seeing you without your glasses, they conceal details remarkably well," Helena said. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" she then asked.  
"No," Hunnigan said softly and smiled, "but I am contemplating on turning this into a competition."

"You want to have a staring competition?" Helena laughed in disbelief.  
"Yes. The winner gets to stay in the warm comfortable sleeping bag while the loser has to get up, light the stove and make coffee."

"All right, I'm game."

"You're going down, Harper."  
"Phrasing!" Helena giggled and Hunnigan rolled her eyes.

"Ready? Go."

Initially, staring right into another person's eyes when they were barely an inch away was kind of funny because it was awkward, and they both found themselves laughing a little and smiling about it until their faces hurt. But after a while, it shifted from that to oddly intimate.

 _I want to kiss her,_ Helena thought, and before she even fully knew what she was doing, she found herself leaning toward Hunnigan, intent on closing the gap between herself and the taller woman, and pressing their lips together.

"What's that sound?" Hunnigan asked and turned her head toward it the door.  
"I... don't... it sounds like an engine," Helena mumbled, unsure if Hunnigan had realized her intention or not. She was disappointed at the interruption as much as she was grateful for it because she didn't want to think what would've happened if she'd managed to kiss Hunnigan.

 _What is wrong with me?_

"Huh, I guess Shepard finally found a way up here and the storm's passed," Hunnigan said and began to crawl out of the sleeping bag. Helena sighed and got up as well.

"You guys still breathin'?" director Shepard's muffled voice came through the snow and the door shortly after the engine's sound slowed to a steady idle rumble.  
"Yes, we're fine, just stuck," Hunnigan called out as she got dressed.

"Nothing to fear, Johnny's here! We'll get you out in no time," Shepard said and the sound of shovels digging into the snow could be heard shortly after.

In a couple of hours, they'd been dug out, they'd cleaned up the cabin, packed their stuff, and were in the backseat of a snowcat Shepard was driving, the other agents who'd come to help taking the other one back.

"I hope you weren't too traumatized," Shepard said over his shoulder.  
"I can't speak for Hunnigan, but I actually had a good time."

"I did too, so don't worry," Hunnigan agreed.

Once back in town, Shepard informed them they'd need to spend the night at the local hotel since the roads back to the city were still partially blocked.

"I don't mind, I just want a long, hot shower," Helena told him when he apologized about the situation. She understood it wasn't really his fault, apparently no one had predicted the severity of the snow storm, she couldn't expect him to have either.  
"Same here," Hunnigan said as she accepted the key to her room from Shepard who'd made the reservations and checked them in earlier.

Helena got in the shower and sighed a little as she squeezed a handful of shampoo out from the tiny bottle left on the shelf. The more she tried forcing herself to stop thinking about how she'd almost kissed Hunnigan, the harder it became to stop thinking about it.

 _Why did I do that?_ she asked herself once more as she lathered her hair thoroughly.

 _Oh, you know why. You've been touch starved your entire life, it's no wonder you go from "Hello" to "I love you" the moment someone shows any affection for you,_ Deborah's voice echoed in her mind.

"I refuse to be that obvious," Helena answered it out loud, but of course, she knew it was probably true. That combined with her almost desperate need for validation from any authority figure didn't leave much room for other possibilities which would explain in detail why she behaved the way she did.

It didn't take a professional to figure out her need to please and impress stemmed from the fact that she'd never gotten praise or affection from the authority figure closest to her (namely, her grandmother) when she'd been a child. Add to that separation anxiety mottled with abandonment issues and a buttload of physical abuse laced with good old guilt over her sexuality spewed on her by the deranged alcoholic Helena spent her entire life trying to please in vain, it was a miracle she hadn't turned out more fucked up than she had.

 _And let's not forget Sergeant Good's influence on your messed upness._

Helena scoffed at the thought. Sergeant Good had been a highly regarded officer and Helena's superior when she'd first enlisted. She'd also turned out to be a rapist. Helena still felt odd using that word about a female, but that was how it had been. Unless there was another word used to describe someone who performed sexual acts on another without their consent.

Helena had never reported it. It was the military, women were bluntly told they should practically expect to be raped at some point of their career; no one wanted to hear it, suck it up, princess, it's what you signed up for. It was hard enough to convince someone to investigate when the rapists were male and there was evidence; Helena had known better than to make a fuss, reporting it would've gotten her laughed out of the army, you had to be a man to rape someone, and if you were and did, people were reluctant to believe that too.

Soldiers were supposed to be honorable men and women serving their country, their valor and integrity should never have to be questioned. That was what Helena too had naively thought before enlisting and seeing that soldiers were only human, and just like any other people, they could be cruel, mean, and abusive.

They were flawed heroes, but no one wanted to see that side of it all. Everyone was happy with the illusion that they were valiant idols to be worshipped for their sacrifices, and most of them were honorable men and women, but what so many failed to realize was that the title of a soldier didn't magically transform a lout into an honorable person, quite the contrary; at its worst, the title gave a free pass to those looking for ways to get away with their depravity.

Helena suspected someone had come forward at some point because she'd later heard Sergeant Good had been given "other than an honorable discharge", implying a whistle had been blown but nothing had stuck, so the army had just gotten rid of Good before she'd become a major PR problem. There were times when Helena regretted never saying anything because if she had, perhaps she could've saved a few others from having to get the same "Welcome to the army"-treatment from Sergeant Good as she'd gotten, but it was pointless to dwell on it now.

 _None of this has anything to do with Hunnigan, though,_ Helena thought as she rinsed her hair.

 _You sure about that? She took you under her wing and single-handedly saved you from the death penalty, you are grateful and want to make it up to her, but the only way you learned to thank people and gain their approval was through Sergeant Good's actions because she was the first one in your life to tell you that you did well... as fucked up as the situation the compliment was given in was, it was still a compliment._

Helena sighed. It was messed up, but there was a lot of truth to the thought. When she'd looked back on it all later, Helena had realized Good had known exactly which words to use and which strings to pull to groom Helena. Like any other narcissistic psychopath, Good had been very convincing when she'd twisted it all around until Helena had believed her self-worth was measured by Good's approval.

 _Hunnigan's not Sergeant Good but you crave her approval and the only way you learned to get it was by giving head and allowing yourself to be groped._

"Stop it!" Helena snapped at herself but the memory of being pinned against the sergeant's desk, the tall officer's unwanted touches offending her skin, the way her breath had sounded and smelled, everything was already coming back to her with force.

 _"_ _You have a cute little pussy, don't you?"_

"Shut up!" Helena growled and punched the wall furiously, the tile breaking under the pressure but not before attempting to do Helena's knuckle the same courtesy.

"Ow, cocksucking bitch!" she cursed at the pain that pulsed in her hand and radiated up her forearm, knowing full well she had no one to blame but herself and her knee-jerk reaction to punch something when she became agitated.

She got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around herself and grabbed a plastic bag before heading toward the door. She yanked it open and stepped outside with the intention to grab some snow into the bag and use it to press against the bruised knuckle to prevent swelling, but she literally walked into Hunnigan who'd been at her door, just about to knock.

"Oh, God, sorry, are you okay?" Hunnigan chuckled, her arm wrapping around Helena's midsection to stabilize her when she faltered.  
"Yes, I'm fine, I just..." Helena mumbled into Hunnigan's shoulder, stealing a moment to enjoy being held by Hunnigan. The pain in her hand and the cold wind assaulting her still wet skin yanked her back to reality soon enough, though.

"What are you doing here in just a towel?" Hunnigan frowned at her as she pulled back from the impromptu embrace. Helena told a white lie about how she'd gotten injured while slipping in the shower and explained she'd come to get snow for a cold compress. Hunnigan ordered her to go back inside and grabbed the snow for her.

"I came to give you your socks back," Hunnigan then said as she sat next to Helena on the couch and handed her the bag of snow.  
"Nah, you can keep them, I have a feeling you'll have more use for them, my blood circulation is fine," Helena dismissed with a smile.

"How's your hand, are you sure it's not broken? Can you make a fist?" Hunnigan fussed and Helena slowly balled her hand into a fist, grunting at the pain but somewhat amused and warmed by the excess concern Hunnigan showed.  
"It hurts, but I can move it, I think it's just bruised," she said aloud then.

"Okay," Hunnigan said and Helena knew she didn't believe her lie about slipping for one second. She looked like she wanted to mention it, but decided against it, and for that, Helena was grateful.

"So. Shepard is still hell-bent on having an office Christmas party. Don't ask me how, but he managed to reserve the ski lodge for it. Will you be there?" Hunnigan changed the subject.  
"Um... I don't know. I'm not sure if I have my ugly Christmas sweater with me," Helena said and Hunnigan cracked a smile.

"I thought you always came prepared and had at least that and possibly a fancy cocktail dress in your backpack."


	5. Chapter 5

_Well, look at you,_ Helena scoffed internally at herself as she stood in the bathroom stall and stared at her stomach after buttoning up her jeans. In reality, she hadn't gained more than ten pounds of weight over the past months and she knew it wasn't anywhere near enough to put her even close to being overweight, but as minor as the swell in her abdomen was, it bothered her. It was an embarrassing manifestation of how she'd neglected herself. She, of all people. She knew better. She could _do_ better. But she had intentionally chosen not to. She had no excuse for putting on the weight, and that was what she hated about it the most.

She tugged the hem of her shirt down and was about to exit the stall when she heard two agents enter and a familiar name in their conversation caught her attention. She remained still and quirked an eyebrow, deciding to eavesdrop. It wasn't her fault they didn't think to check the stall.

"My problem is that Harper wasn't prosecuted or at least fired," a voice said, accompanied by the sound of high heels clicking on the tile floor and a shadow moving until the agent stopped in front of the row of sinks with her friend.  
"Cut her some slack, you make it sound like she's incompetent," the other agent scoffed.

"Who says she isn't?"  
"Her record, she's the top of her class at everything."

"Yeah, according to Hunnigan. Everyone knows Harper's her pet, or need I remind you of the gross abuse of discretion she displayed just to save Harper's ass?"  
"And need I remind you that Hunnigan and Harper are the reason the person actually behind the treason was caught? I don't see a problem with how the situation was handled."

"Oh, please. Even you have to admit every other person would've been sent to the electric chair or at least gotten fired for doing half of the shit Harper did. Doesn't it make you wonder?"  
"Wonder what?"

"Why Hunnigan is so quick to commit atrocities for her little pet," the agitated woman said. Water drummed into the sink and the sound of paper towels being torn from the dispenser followed.  
"You're paranoid."

"And you're gullible. Look, all I'm saying is I sure hope Harper's cunt is worth risking the national security for."  
"Don't be gross."

Helena balled her hands into tight fists, barely registering the pain in her right hand, the white hot fury bubbling inside her drowning it out. She was willing to swallow the anger over being accused of being incompetent or even over having her own integrity questioned, but she couldn't tolerate them dragging Hunnigan into it.

Helena inhaled deeply through her nose and let it slip out past her lips in a long, shaky exhale. She imagined stepping out and grabbing the trash-talker by the hair and repeatedly slamming her head against the edge of the sink until there'd be nothing left but a messy pulp. She imagined tackling her down and stomping her teeth in. She imagined several increasingly violent scenarios, and then, for the first time in her life, she paused to consider the consequences of going through with any of them.

 _Don't do it. You can tell yourself you're defending Hunnigan's honor or whatever the hell it is you want to believe, but the truth is, you're the only person who wants this. You are her protégé and your actions reflect on her, so for the love of God, don't._

It was a strange limbo to be stuck in, between being so angry she felt physically ill and tingly all over with the need to explode into a homicidal rampage, and a certain calmness that was slowly washing over the fury, soothing it as she reminded herself of what going through with it would ultimately cost and how much better she'd be off if she just did not do it.

 _Not to mention the collateral damage... namely, Hunnigan. It's already a wonder she isn't asking you the question "how dare you?" after all the trouble she has gone through just to get you where you are. How dare you after the accusations people like that bitch over there are throwing at her just because she's stood by your side through the messes you've caused. You ungrateful fucking brat._

"Hunnigan's straight, she has a kid for God's sakes, I seriously doubt Harper's had a chance to climb up her thigh for any favors."  
"Bah, Shepard was straight too until he married Steve. You never know these days."

"You're seriously trying to tell me you honestly believe Hunnigan would jeopardize her integrity and her career for something as insignificant as sex?"  
"I've seen better do worse for less."

Helena faked a smile and it quickly became genuine, but it ceased being a smile, it turned into a vicious grin, the kind the big bad wolf would have in a cartoon meant to terrify little children. It was the kind of a grin the unfortunate victims of deranged murderers saw before their life was taken away.

Helena unlocked the door and stepped out, her grin widening further when she saw how startled and uncomfortable the two agents became upon seeing her. The fragile framed agent with short black hair looked genuinely embarrassed whereas her taller and more solidly built friend looked surprised for half a second, but then utterly unapologetic, leading Helena to believe she'd been the trash talker. Helena commended her for not bothering to waste time trying to backpedal or explain it away which is what most probably would've done in the same situation.

Helena walked to the sinks across the room and washed her hands, the duo still awkwardly standing silently by the door, possibly waiting for Helena to confront them about what had been said.

"Ladies," Helena smiled as she pushed past them and exited the bathroom, her tone of voice syrupy sweet and friendly, but her fists still firmly clenched as she restrained herself. Walking away that moment was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do.

* * *

Helena felt like she should've left the party rather than stay and make a poor job of hiding the fact that she was avoiding Hunnigan, but at the same time, she didn't want to admit defeat fully like that. However, coming up with excuses and trying to pretend she was busy chatting with people whose conversations she wasn't interested in was quickly becoming exhausting. Not to mention it was dumb; Helena mentally kicked herself for ever being stupid enough to think Hunnigan wouldn't realize she was avoiding her.

She could just explain herself, tell Hunnigan she was making an effort to stay away from her company to ensure the trash talking gossip wouldn't have anything to speak of... but doing that would require her to explain what had led to this decision. She didn't want to tell Hunnigan about what had been said. Odds were Hunnigan wouldn't care, but Helena really did not want to repeat the words used.

"Are you gonna tell me why you're avoiding me or should I just keep trying to guess?" Hunnigan inquired when she appeared as if out of the blue right next to Helena who was standing by the bar.  
"I'm not avoiding you," Helena lied unconvincingly.

"Okay," Hunnigan shrugged one shoulder, her tone of voice light but also making it clear she didn't believe Helena for one second. Instead of pressing the issue, Hunnigan ordered another drink and walked away immediately after getting it. Helena sighed deeply, feeling bad because she knew she'd just offended Hunnigan.

Helena remained at her spot and ordered another drink while the director got started on the "fun group activity" (which was a nicer way of saying "torture") he'd come up with.

"It's simple. You pick a song and you pick a singer for it. So it's like..."  
"Some kind of Russian roulette karaoke?" Leon interjected and the rewarded his quip with scattered laughter.  
"Well, you're not wrong," Shepard chuckled.

 _Oh, great,_ Helena grumbled internally. She was one of the people who vehemently believed karaoke should be made illegal. As a reward for his smartass comment, Shepard gave Leon the questionable honor of being the first to go.

 _Huh, he's not terrible,_ Helena admitted when he sang. On the contrary, he was rather good, he even managed a falsetto which sounded great, not something everyone could do, not even all the professional singers. Then again, Leon was the annoying kind of a guy who was good at almost everything, Helena didn't know why she was even surprised.

"Hey," a voice said over the sound of Leon's singing. Helena looked up and saw the woman who'd tried defending her earlier to her friend in the ladies' room. Helena couldn't remember her name and right now didn't even bother pretending she did.

"Hawke. Jeri Hawke," she introduced herself upon noticing that. "And I didn't mean to say that in the James Bond-style, I swear," she then laughed a little and ran her hand through her hair awkwardly. It was black, the pixie cut styled to look messy, strands hanging over her impossibly turquoise eyes.

"Harper. Helena. But I guess you already knew that," she smirked.  
"Yeah... I'm sorry about Skylark, she's a bitter cunt who has to have something to complain about because she's not happy unless she's miserable," Hawke said. Helena quirked an eyebrow.

"Harsh things to say about a friend."  
"We're not friends, we're just partners, and now she thinks I'm her bestie because of that," Hawke chuckled, shaking her head.

"Congratulations?" Helena shrugged one shoulder. She didn't want to seem rude, but she didn't really wish to carry the conversation on either. Hawke didn't get the hint or then chose to ignore it.  
"Yeah, cheers, thanks a lot," she scoffed amusedly. "For what it's worth, she's pretty much alone with her accusations regarding you."

"I don't care about me, but she has no right or reason to drag Hunnigan into my mess," Helena snapped.  
"I'm not arguing," Hawke said raising her hands into a small surrendering gesture. Helena didn't comment. Hawke sighed a little and took the liberty of ordering Helena a drink too while ordering one for herself. Not that it could really count as buying an apology-drink since there was an open bar. Regardless, Helena didn't see a reason to remain salty and accepted the gesture for what it was worth.

"...you wanna get out of here?" Hawke then asked.  
"Who doesn't?" Helena chuckled and to emphasize her point, nodded toward the small stage where one of the male agents was butchering ABBA's "Dancing queen".

"No, I meant..." Hawke chuckled and leaned to rest her hand on Helena's forearm, "...you wanna get out of here?" she repeated, emphasizing her words a little to get her meaning across. Helena's gaze darted between the hand on her forearm and Hawke's face for a moment before she finally managed to utter a word.

"Oh. I... I'm..." she stammered as she considered it.

She admitted she wouldn't have minded having someone near her; cuddling with Hunnigan at the cabin had made her realize just how touch-starved she'd been. But when she thought of going through with it with Hawke, she couldn't even really imagine it. Hawke seemed nice enough and she was a beautiful sight to behold, but Helena didn't feel anything. No curiosity, no passion, no lust, nothing. Frankly, even the thought of sex kind of made her cringe, in her mind the act and everything associated with still blighted by Sergeant Good's venom.

"I don't think that would be a good idea, given everything, you know..." she trailed off awkwardly.  
"All right. Figured it wouldn't hurt to ask," Hawke smiled and to Helena's relief, she seemed to genuinely not mind.

"It's nothing personal, I just... you know," she reassured just to be sure and Hawke nodded.  
"It's okay, I get it. Don't worry," she said. "See you around," she then winked and left the bar.

Helena took a drink and sighed into her glass as she did, sincerely hoping that what had just happened wouldn't come back to bite her in the ass at some point.

 _Well what the hell was I supposed to do, have sex with her even if I didn't want to? How's that any better than what happened between me and Good?_ she questioned her doubt.

The further stuck she got thinking about it, the more she realized that wasn't the only reason. Yes, it was the main reason, but there was something else holding her back. She was touch-starved, yes, but she realized quickly enough that the only person whose touch she would accept was Hunnigan.

She would've wanted to rewind the past day back to the moment of when they'd been cuddled up in the sleeping bag together. She wanted to be back in that moment staring into Hunnigan's blue-gray eyes that had a dim undertint of green, a shade which one wouldn't notice when looking at her quickly through the tinted glasses she usually wore, but was visible when looking deep enough.

If Helena could do it again, she'd kiss her. Slowly. Lightly. With passion but gently.

 _What makes you think she wouldn't just pull back in disgust?_ the demeaning voice of Sergeant Good inquired in the back of Helena's mind. She sighed and ordered another drink.

 _What makes you think she'd want you? What makes you think anyone would want you? You're beyond damaged, you're angry and 're a fucking idiot if you even_ think _that she'd want to mess up her life further by keeping you around. What have you got to offer? What are you good for? Why would anyone want you?_

Helena downed her drink in a few long swallows before ordering yet another. The bartender gave her a glance but didn't comment or cut her off, yet anyway. Helena ground her teeth and sighed internally once more. She didn't have the energy to argue with the dark thoughts. It would be a battle she'd get into in vain because she already agreed with every single unpleasant remark.

 _You don't deserve to be cared for let alone loved, and the sooner you accept that no one will ever love you, the better off you'll be._

"Here's to you for being right all along," Helena mumbled to the disembodied voice of Sergeant Good and raised her glass.


	6. Chapter 6

_Helena stood in Sergeant Good's office, her back straight, her hands clasped behind her. She feverishly tried to think back on everything she'd done this past day as she tried to figure out what could be the reason she'd been called in so that the sergeant could "talk with her up close" as she'd put it, whatever that meant. Sergeant Good had never been exactly nice toward Helena, but that was something she'd known to expect. Hazing was something she'd assumed would happen, and so far it hadn't been very horrible._

 _Earlier today during a bunk inspection Sergeant Good had told Helena to make her bed again, and when she'd done it, Good had yanked the covers back and told her to do it again. This had repeated a total of thirteen times before Good had gotten bored toying with her and finally let it go. Before that, Good had resorted to a classic, making Helena scrub the bathroom's floor using only a toothbrush. At least she hadn't made Helena use her own toothbrush, that was a small comfort._

 _Sergeant Good circled behind Helena and closed the door to her office. Helena frowned a little when she heard the click as Good locked the door. Why would she need to lock it? Helena had barely finished the thought when she felt Good's breath against the back of her neck as the sergeant stood behind her, invading her personal space. When Helena turned to face her, Good nudged her to move until she'd backed to her desk until the backs of Helena's thighs hit the edge and stopped her._

 _Sergeant Good put her hand over the back of Helena's neck and held her still as she leaned to press her lips over Helena's, the tip of her tongue forcing its way into Helena's mouth past her lips despite Helena's effort to keep them pinched shut. Sergeant Good's breath smelled like coffee and stale cigarettes, the taste of her tongue similar but laced with an aftertaste of something sweet. She probably put sugar in her coffee._

 _"_ _Don't worry," she said after breaking the forced kiss with a resounding smack. "You're going to enjoy this," she added as she undid Helena's jacket and pushed it off of her shoulders before proceeding to yank the hem of Helena's T-shirt from underneath the waist of her pants where she'd tucked it in._

This can't be happening. This is ridiculous, this doesn't make any sense, she can't be serious, she's just... hazing me, she has to be _, Helena thought when Good slipped her hands underneath the shirt and brought them up along her sides, dragging the shirt up as she did. She pushed it over Helena's head and behind her neck before forcing her hand into Helena's bra from underneath. She grabbed Helena's breast greedily and pinched her nipple between her thumb and forefinger hard enough to hurt, the fingers of her other hand digging into the back of Helena's neck once more as she kissed her again._

 _"_ _Don't," Helena managed to say into Sergeant Good's mouth._

 _"_ _Trust me, you'll start enjoying yourself soon enough," Good promised with a grin. She undid Helena's belt and pants, shoving them halfway down her thighs before she put her arms around Helena's midsection and with a forceful nudge, lifted her onto the desk so that she was sitting on the edge of it._

 _Good placed herself between Helena's legs before she had chance to press her thighs together, the sides of her knees impacting into Good's hips hard._

 _"_ _Is that any way to behave when a superior officer is doing you a favor?" Good asked, obviously not expecting an answer, her voice dropping to a low growl as she yanked Helena's pants further down before stepping on them to push them all the way to her ankles. She leaned back and took a moment to stare at Helena._

 _"_ _Mmm," she hummed and licked her lips like a starving person seeing a hot meal for the first time in days, "look at you all ready for me," she added in a mumble._

 _"_ _Please, don't do this," Helena said, barely managing to get the words out, the fear clogging her throat, constricting it until she could hardly breathe, her voice reduced to a terrified whimper which was so unfamiliar to her she couldn't even believe it had emanated from her._

Do something. Say something. Throw a fucking punch, anything, what is wrong with you? _Helena screamed internally at herself but the more she tried to move and resist, the less she found herself being able to do anything at all. The situation was too alien, too confusing, too wrong, it was impossible, it couldn't be happening._

 _"_ _There's no need to be embarrassed, pet. You have a cute little pussy, don't you?" Sergeant Good murmured and reached down. She pressed her fingers against Helena, parting her lips with her forefinger and ring finger._

 _"_ _I don't want..."_

 _"_ _That's not what your pussy says," Good spoke over her and to prove her point, she moved her middle finger to Helena's opening and spread the slick wetness she discovered there._

I'm seventeen, I'm wet all the time whether I want it or not, _Helena thought but didn't manage to bring herself to point that out to Sergeant Good out loud. She slid the finger inside Helena, eliciting a startled gasp from her as she did. Good then paused for a moment when she felt something resist her effort._

 _"_ _You've never done this before?" she quirked an eyebrow and Helena managed to shake her head a little. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat; she sure as hell wouldn't give Good the satisfaction of seeing her cry._

 _"_ _Trust me, pet, I'm gonna make you feel good," the sergeant said and chuckled then at her own pun before gripping Helena's hip with her free hand and pressing her waist against the back of her hand which was still between Helena's legs. She used her hips for added pressure and pushed into Helena, forcing her finger through the thin tissue she'd felt resist her earlier._

 _Helena grunted at the unpleasant stretch, fullness and mild burning sensation that followed when Good added another finger. She brought her thumb to rub over Helena's clit as she moved her fingers inside her, and Helena hated her body for giving into it._

 _"_ _Atta girl," the sergeant said into her ear, sounding pleased with herself as she felt Helena's inner muscles involuntarily pulse and constrict around her fingers. "My turn," she then smiled and took a step back, undoing her pants. She pushed them mid-thigh and tugged on Helena until she got up from the desk only to be ordered to get on her knees in front of Good a couple of seconds later._

 _"_ _Be a good girl and hold still," the sergeant said and sunk her hand into Helena's hair, squeezing her hand into a tight fist, keeping Helena in place and pulling a little to urge her to tilt her head back. She then pushed against the back of Helena's head and aligned herself with Helena's mouth._

 _"_ _Flatten your tongue. Just like when licking an ice cream cone," Good instructed and Helena did as she was told. She was rewarded with a low hum of approval from the sergeant whose fist in Helena's hair slowly turned into a stroking hand, as if this were the tender moment she so adamantly kept insisting it was._

Just give her what she wants and get it over with, it won't last forever, _Helena told herself as she tried to ignore the strain in her jaw and neck the awkward position brought up._

 _She'd been right, it didn't last long, probably due to the depraved thrill the sergeant had felt upon discovering Helena'd been a virgin. But that wasn't much of a comfort in the long run because while it didn't ever last very long, it happened often. At times Good ordered Helena to wear a strap-on and the whole sorry mess was over simply by her wearing it and sitting down while Good straddled her and took advantage of being able to grope at Helena's breasts while riding her. Other times weren't quite as painless. Sometimes Good told her she was "feeling curious", though, Helena knew it wasn't as much curiosity as it was just plain sadism; she was certain Good was already knowledgeable of what the reaction to having something jammed up your ass and pussy against your will generally tended to be._

 _Some of the times, Good didn't even get off herself, and it had taken Helena a long time to understand what was the point of it all if she didn't even get there. Why did she do those things to her if it weren't even for her own satisfaction? And more importantly, why was she always so adamant about making Helena come, that was weird. Later, Helena had realized the reasons._

 _It had never been about the sex, rape rarely was. It was about the power. It was about being able to look at someone and make them know you could do whatever you wanted with them. It was about degrading and humiliating another._

 _Afterward Good had always taken the time to remind Helena to keep her mouth shut because clearly, she'd enjoyed herself. Betrayed by her own body after the manipulations the sergeant had put it through, Helena had not even questioned Good's statements. Maybe Good was right, maybe she_ had _been begging for it._

It's my own fault.

 _And no one had ever told her otherwise._

* * *

Helena inhaled sharply when there was a knock on the door. The sound startled her back to reality from where her mind had shot off to after she'd read the email sent to her by a soldier she'd served with. A soldier who'd known Sergeant Kassandra Good rather well, and like Helena, he hadn't wanted to know her that well either.

Helena was relatively certain her involvement with Good was still her secret, the soldier in question had approached a lot of people who had been trained by Sergeant Good, not just her. He'd been the reason Good had been discharged from the military, and he was now reaching out hoping to find more victims who would be willing to come forward so that he could make sure Sergeant Good would be prosecuted for what she'd done. Helena wished him luck but didn't honestly believe this could be accomplished.

"Sorry, nobody down here but the DSO's most unwanted!" Helena called out and closed the email. She'd meant to delete it, but she changed her mind. Perhaps she'd think on it. Maybe.  
"Helena, get out of here, it's Christmas eve's eve, no one is actually working anymore," Leon told her from the door.

"You're here," she quirked an eyebrow.  
"I was just leaving."

"And you came all the way down here just to see me? I'm touched," Helena smiled.  
"Well, I had to come and see what you'd done to the place. Love it," Leon chuckled.

Helena's office was in the basement floor, it had been lovingly nicknamed "Mulder's office" since like the case was with the fictional FBI agent, the basement office was reserved for the "weirdo loner"-agent of the DSO as well. Helena had even gone ahead and gotten one of those "I want to believe"-posters she'd seen in the TV-show. It had been a simple little thing, but she hoped it had sent a message to those who'd put her here. It said she didn't care.

 _Bring it on, you don't have what it takes to break me._

"Envious much?" she smirked.

"Very, I can see why you'd want to spend Christmas here," he laughed. "Well, I'm off. Happy holidays, see you next year!" he then waved her goodbye. She responded in kind and sighed after he'd gone. It was getting kind of late, perhaps she should go home.

 _I wonder if Hunnigan's still at the office,_ she mused as she shut down her laptop and stood up. She'd continued to try avoiding Hunnigan after the Christmas party and she knew she was being childish but at the same time, she didn't know how to say anything, and at this point, it was too late to bring it up, it had been three days. And, Helena hoped that putting more distance between herself and Hunnigan would give her a chance to clear her mind and forget about the whole "I want to kiss Hunnigan"-nonsense.

Still, leaving without even telling Hunnigan to have a happy Christmas would've been just rude. Helena got into the elevator and rode it up to the floor where Hunnigan's personal office was. The situation room where she and the other FOS agents worked if there was an attack was on ground level. The space housing the agents' personal offices was higher up. It had been divided into separate rooms with glass walls, the small lounge and the kitchenette the only common areas.

As Helena approached the office, she was relatively certain no one would even be there anymore, there was no light seeping through the frosted glass on the door leading into the larger office, but she decided to go give the door a tug regardless. Could be Hunnigan had just turned off the main lights at the entrance to make it look like there was no one there, she was the type who would've preferred being left alone, Helena was certain of that much. As she suspected, the door opened smoothly.

"Seeley, what are you doing?" Hunnigan's voice called out from her office.  
"Nuthin'!" the child responded from the far back of the space, his words immediately followed by a noise.

"Nuthiiiin'!" he repeated before his mother even had a chance to question him. When Helena entered further, she saw the boy had pulled out a drawer and was busy climbing on it, his intention apparently to look into the top cabinet, probably in the hopes of finding something sweet to munch on.

 _Oh, no_ , Helena gasped internally when she realized the boy would fall within two seconds from that moment. She dashed to the end of the room and caught him just as the drawer cracked and caved in underneath his weight, utensils spilling to the floor from inside it, clattering loudly.

"Seeley!" Hunnigan's alarmed voice called out and Helena could hear her stand up so quickly her chair rolled into the wall from the force.  
"I'm not hurt, I'm just startled," Seeley informed her, tiny, sharp pre-cry breaths taking over his voice toward the end of the sentence.

"Same," Helena said, and she realized she was holding onto him rather awkwardly, her arm around his midsection and her left hand squeezing the back of his shirt as if she were about to carry him around like he were a gym bag. She let him go and he immediately ran the few steps there were between him and his mother. Hunnigan leaned to pick him up and he put his tiny arms around her neck.

"Thank you."  
"Lucky coincidence," Helena smiled a little.

"I should've paid more attention to him, I'm terrible at this," Hunnigan sighed ruefully.  
"He's a kid, they tend to find ways to get in trouble no matter what you do," Helena assured her.

"Well... you have a point. And I think I'm still one step above my mother when it comes to parenting."  
"I sense a story here."

"There's a series of photos in one album at home, there are a few pictures of my brother climbing up a tree, captioned 'The joy of climbing', and when you turn the page, there's another series, featuring Bart crying his eyes out, captioned 'The pain of falling', which means that instead of telling him not to climb and comforting him after he fell, my mother just took pictures," Hunnigan said.

"Well, I mean, that is how we learn not to climb trees," Helena chuckled.  
"Exactly what my mother said to justify her actions, but I still think photographing it was excessive," Hunnigan said.

"Fair enough. That said, I bet this little guy won't be climbing any more drawers after today, right?" Helena commented with a smile, looking at Seeley, who still had his face buried into the side of Hunnigan's neck. He shook his head vigorously, not raising it from the spot, effectively wiping his tears and snot over the side of Hunnigan's neck and on her collar. Hunnigan made a face of disgust and sighed.

"I'll take this as a sign that we should be heading home," she muttered and turned back to her desk, beginning to close the programs on her laptop before shutting it down. The door opened and Helena instinctively found her hand drawing toward the pistol in the holster on her hip. There shouldn't have been anyone here, it made sense to her to be prepared for the worst. And at the same time, she wished Hunnigan didn't notice her "jumpiness".

The man who entered was a big guy; tall and even through his jacket, Helena could tell her had the body type of a strongman. He looked like he could wrestle a bear and win, easily. Hell, he could _be_ one for all she knew; the thick dark auburn messy hair and his full beard -as neatly trimmed as it was- made him look like a human version of a bear. In other words, at first glance, not the kind of a guy you would've wanted to run into in a dark alley. She shifted her initial opinion a little when his serious frown melted into a smile and she sensed what could only be described as an aura of kindness of him.

"Oh. Hello," he said upon realizing Helena was there too. He extended his arm and Helena gripped his hand, firmly but not enough to hurt. Helena had never considered her own hands dainty but still, somehow, her hand seemed to completely disappear into his when they shook hands.

"Major Hunnigan," he introduced himself and Helena felt her entire scalp slide backward as she raised her eyebrows at that.

"Helena Harper," she managed a response. He didn't look like Hunnigan's type at all, but Helena had to admit, she'd made assumptions about Hunnigan before and she'd been wrong. Assuming her ex would be a skinny geek was a result of Helena's own misinterpretation of Hunnigan as well.

 _How modern of him to have taken her name,_ Helena thought and before she'd even finished the thought, she found herself mentally burying her face into her palm in exasperation at her own idiocy.

 _Yeah, sure, because out of the two of them,_ she _looks like the one with Irish roots, not the pale guy with the auburn hair and green eyes._

He then went to pick up Seeley from Hunnigan's arms and she began to unplug the various cables attached to her laptop.

"I should get going, I just wanted to wish you happy holidays," Helena smiled, beginning to feel rather awkward standing there. She took a moment to say goodbye to the family and headed into the stairs rather than the elevator. She didn't want to run into them if they used the elevator, it would be weird now. A few more days away from Hunnigan and from work would probably do the trick and she'd get over the annoying flutter she felt in her heart whenever she saw the tall intelligence liaison. She certainly hoped so.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's note: I changed Helena's background because in the files in RE6 it's mentioned she got violent toward a suspect during a murder investigation, but it's also mentioned somewhere that prior to her being in the Secret Service, she was in the CIA and the CIA has absolutely nothing to do with murder investigations whatsoever (FBI maybe but Helena wouldn't have had the time to finish army, college and FBI training to be an FBI agent before being tossed to the Secret Service), so I changed it to something that makes a lot more sense, aka she went to the police academy after army and was a cop for five minutes and from there she was moved to the Secret Service by Simmons who by then had decided to use her as his pawn. It might sound ridiculous but believe me, it's way more sensible than the alternative Capcom offered. :D_

* * *

 _Why her and not me?_ Helena thought as she stood in the shower, her head hanging low, the steaming hot water pelting her back, a cascade washing over her head as well, the drops mottled with her tears as they fell along the bridge of her nose.

She would never understand why, it made no sense. Why Deborah? She'd been the good kid. The one who'd actually had a chance at life, the one who hadn't been broken down and hastily put back together, over and over again until the person that came out from that was permanently cracked and misshapen, the pieces no longer fitting together.

 _Why didn't I die?_

Quite simply, she hadn't died because she'd been the agent, the former soldier, the President's bodyguard. If she hadn't fucked up her promotion to the DSO by letting her temper get the better of her, she wouldn't have been in the Secret Service at the time and Simmons wouldn't have had any reason to kidnap Deborah to coerce her. If she had gotten a different job altogether after getting out from the army, it wouldn't have happened. If she'd gotten a job as an EMT and gone to school like she'd meant to do after active duty it wouldn't have happened.

 _You fucked up something as basic as being a cop! What kind of an idiot assaults a suspect and gets herself suspended almost as soon as she began at the job! You're a failure. You could've made use of the resources the military provided, you could've at least tried, everyone else seems capable of going from combat medic to doctor or at least a nurse, but no, you couldn't manage that either. You're such a disappointment!_ her grandmother's voice snapped from the citadel she'd built inside Helena's mind, a myriad of demeaning and derogatory comments stored therein, ready to be fired at her at a fraction of a second's notice if given the chance.

 _You had to play hero. You had to beat up the suspect. You had to shoot Deborah's boyfriend's ear off and fuck up your promotion. You're pathetic._

In Helena's defense, Deborah's then-boyfriend had been an abusive dick who had pummeled Deborah so badly she'd had to go to the hospital with bruised kidneys and fractured ribs. He was lucky Helena hadn't killed him. In hindsight, she supposed she was lucky she hadn't killed him too. But she didn't find it in herself to genuinely regret doing that. She regretted everything it helped set in motion, the direction it had steered her life toward, but not the act itself. If she could go back in time, she'd kill him. That way she'd be in jail rather than compromising Deborah's safety just by being her stupid big sister.

That was all she knew how to be; initially, Deborah had been the only one small enough for her to protect. Keeping her safe had given Helena a certain sense of purpose. It had felt good to have that, a reason for her existence. Playing hero hadn't been Helena's incentive, mattering to someone and making a positive difference in their life had been.

 _Oh, well, yeah, sure, that turned out brilliantly, didn't it?_ her grandmother's voice scoffed. Helena sighed. No, it hadn't in the end, but there'd been times when she'd served her purpose.

Like that time when Deborah had gotten the brilliant idea of pouring grandma's booze down the drain because she'd believed that would be all it took to get her to stop drinking. When their grandmother found out about it, Helena was certain she'd kill the culprit.

She'd told Deborah to go to the attic and hide. Helena knew their grandmother wouldn't go up there to look. It wasn't that she wasn't capable (she was more than capable, she wasn't an invalid nor was she a frail old lady), it was just that she wouldn't be bothered, especially not if Helena would say she'd done it.

She'd taken the blame and the beating. The lacerations on her back from the belt grandmother had used to beat her with had gotten infected because there'd been no aftercare. As a reward for having the audacity to whine about being sick, Helena had gotten hit on the back of the head with that damn hairbrush. Afterward, her grandmother had dragged her into the bathroom and drawn a scalding bath, saying something about getting the wounds thoroughly cleaned.

The water felt boiling hot, and Helena imagined her skin bubbling and fizzing in the heat. Of course, it hadn't been that bad in reality, but it had felt very real to a terrified ten year old. Her grandmother had then proceeded to vigorously scrub the infected wounds with a coarse sponge. Helena winced and pressed her palm against the scars on her back, the phantom pain the memory brought still stinging her skin. The blood from the wounds had dyed the bathwater a faded shade of pink by the time they were done with the violent bath.

Unsurprisingly, that had made Helena's condition worse and she'd gotten a fever which had nearly killed her. After that, her grandmother had been more careful with the punishments; having the annoying brat die would raise questions, she couldn't have that. So, she'd stuck to milder methods of punishments (like grabbing her by the hair and dragging her over to the pantry where she'd lock her in, or pinching the soft skin under her arm between the armpit and the elbow) apart from the times she got overwhelmed by her fury and resorted to breaking out the large wooden hairbrush.

Helena still had moments when she was about to drift off and just as she was to fall asleep, she'd see the brush speeding toward her, the lacquered surface shining under the light, the decorative pattern carved onto the back of the brush getting bigger as it rushed closer. That God damn brush had been the first thing she'd burned after clearing the apartment from her grandmother's belongings after her passing. But it hadn't been enough to burn the bad memories or the nasty remarks she still had embedded deep in her mind. She doubted she'd ever be rid of them. It was the dumbest things too, things that should no longer matter to her, should no longer have the power to hurt. But they did.

 _You're sick._

Helena still didn't understand why her grandmother had said that. It had happened before she'd come out, so it hadn't been about that. Certainly, she'd said it numerous times afterward, in fact, that had been her favorite way of describing Helena, simply stating that she's "sick", and she'd never explained why she'd said it in the first place, what was it about Helena that supposedly made her sick. The first time she'd heard it, Helena had been rather confused because to a little kid, being sick meant you had the flu, and she hadn't felt ill, why would grandma say she was sick?

 _You're fat enough as it is. No one loves a fatty-patty._

A comment made when Helena had asked if they could go to McDonald's. What made it more insulting was the fact that looking back, looking at the few photos she had from that time, she could see she had not been fat. She'd been a child, she'd had the normal amount of "babyfat" all (or certainly almost all) children of that age had. And still, that one comment still remained with her. She'd heard it lurking in the back of her mind a lot recently thanks to the weight she'd gained and no amount of reasoning and assuring it wasn't even bad made it go away.

The only time the derogatory words had remained muffled in the background was when Helena had been deployed in Afghanistan and befriended a soldier named Maxima. Helena had hero-worshipped her. No, more than that, she'd loved her. Not romantically or sexually, but like one loved their brothers and sisters in arms.

Maxima was smart, she was strong and above all, she was kind and patient, a saint as far as Helena was concerned. She was the kind of a person one thought of when thinking about a soldier: honorable, guided by strong and just moral convictions, willing to sacrifice herself for the good of others. She was the kind of a woman Helena would've happily followed to hell with a smile.

 _And then she died too. You can't save anyone._

"It wasn't my fault!" Helena snapped out loud. What the hell more could she have done? The IED had taken out the vehicle Maxima had been in and it had been too late the moment the explosion had happened, there was nothing anyone could have done at that point. Helena had tried, truly she had. Desperately and uselessly, she'd ran to her friend, dropped to her knees and scooped up the guts, blood, bone fragments and chunks of charred flesh she could find, sand covering it all and clinging to her hands now sticky with blood as she hopelessly kept trying to tuck it all back into the upper half of her friend's torso, the only part of her that was still intact.

 _You can't save anyone. You're a useless waste of my son's cum!_

"Stop. Just stop," Helena muttered, sucking in a shuddering breath as she tried to stop crying. It took a while longer but finally, she shut the water off and exited the shower. A while later, she slumped onto the couch, wearing her bathrobe. Sighing deeply, she stared blankly at the wall for a long time.

 _You know what stops it._

Her gaze wandered lower, onto the pistol in its holster on the coffee table. She'd meant to take it apart and clean it, but she had decided to put it off; like so many other things it could wait until tomorrow. Helena grabbed it and pulled it out from the holster. She weighed it in her hand, adjusted her hold on the grip and racked the slide, all such familiar movements she could've done them in her sleep. Never before had she put the barrel into her mouth, though, but there was a first time for everything.

Helena placed her front teeth into the grooves in the underside of the Picatinny rail, the fit disturbingly good. She inhaled deeply and let it out through her nose in a long exhale. The hammer made a whiny creaking noise as it drew back when Helena put more pressure on the trigger. The cold metal didn't taste as bitter as she'd expected.

* * *

Hunnigan couldn't say what had possessed her to go over, especially since Helena had obviously been avoiding her, but despite thinking she should know better, here she was. At first, she'd been bothered by the way Helena had practically ran away every time Hunnigan had tried having a conversation beyond wishing her good morning or day or evening, depending on what time of day they happened to run into each other in the agency. Then she'd figured out the mistake she'd made.

She'd assumed she and Helena had become friends practically overnight when in reality, it wasn't like Helena'd had any other choice but to get along with her while they'd been stuck in the cabin together. Thinking on it more and realizing just how obvious and stupid the whole thing was, she hadn't been able to keep from feeling like a damn fool. What sane person goes from thinking "we're colleagues" to thinking "we're friends" based on something like that? No one, as far as Hunnigan was concerned.

She hadn't stopped to think of the irony of her appearing at Helena's door in person on Christmas eve to apologize for coming on too strong. In her defense, that wasn't the only reason she'd come over, she'd also wanted to give Helena a Christmas present. She'd walked past a bookstore and noticed a copy of Jim Gaffigan's "Dad is fat" on display in the window and recalled Helena mentioning she was a fan of his work, so she'd gotten the book for her.

Hunnigan knocked again after waiting for a long while, trying to listen for any signs of life from the apartment, but it was quiet.

 _Maybe she's not at home,_ Hunnigan mused and was about to see if she could manage to fit the book through the mail slot on the door when Helena's voice finally called out.

"Hang on!"

Hunnigan did and a few moments later, Helena unlocked the door, visibly surprised to see Hunnigan.

"Hey. I, uh, I was just in the shower," she elaborated somewhat needlessly, Hunnigan had figured out as much based on the fact that Helena's hair was wet and she was dressed in a dark red bathrobe.  
"Oh, I'm sorry, I should've called ahead, I'm not thinking things through these days it seems," Hunnigan apologized.

"It's fine," Helena smiled and stepped aside, gesturing toward the apartment and Hunnigan entered. Helena told her she could wait in the living room while she excused herself and disappeared into the bedroom to get dressed.

Helena's apartment was rather small, not messy but looked lived-in with haphazardly unpacked bags and items of clothing cluttering the space. The kitchenette was a narrow slit in the far back, separated from the living room by a bar counter. The couch sat a couple of feet away from it, opposite to the shelves on the other wall, the TV and accessories there, surrounded by DVDs and paperback books which flooded the shelves.

Hunnigan glanced at the coffee table and at first, didn't think anything of the handgun there, she'd learned by now that Helena liked to keep her gun near herself at all times. She noticed the barrel looked... wet? That made no sense. She was about to lean in to look closer when Helena's voice caught her attention.

"I gotta admit I'm surprised to see you," she said as she emerged from the bedroom, running her hand through her hair.  
"I came to apologize."

"About what?"  
"About my behavior at the Christmas party. I kind of got carried away and thought more of what was happening, I took things the wrong way, I'm sorry."

"What are you talking about?" Helena frowned.

"Well, I just assumed we'd sort of hit it off and that we were friends but I realize it was probably just because what other option did you have than to get along with me while we were stuck in the cabin, so I misunderstood, sorry about that," Hunnigan elaborated and Helena paused for a long moment, seeming to process the words. Hunnigan hoped she didn't come across like she was here guilt-tripping Helena about it, she had meant her words as they were. She took a moment to assure Helena of that now.

"No, no, you've got it wrong, I wasn't... that's not how it was, I mean... yeah, but in reverse. I was kind of keeping my distance because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable by assuming..." Helena trailed off, and Hunnigan didn't believe she was being entirely honest, but she did sound genuine about the sentiment.

"A simple misunderstanding like this is the kind of a thing terribly written and annoyingly predictable comedies are based on," Helena then laughed a little and Hunnigan smiled.  
"Speaking of comedy," she said and dug into her purse. "Merry Christmas," she said and handed Helena the book.

"You didn't need to get me anything! I didn't think to get anything for you!" Helena sighed.  
"You already gave me the socks, remember?"

"Well, yeah, but that was different."  
"Enough, we're not arguing over this, just take the gift," Hunnigan rolled her eyes, smiling.

"Fine, but I'm getting you a present later," Helena said.  
"You got any plans for the holidays?" Hunnigan then changed the subject.

"I'm not really a Christmas-person. Does getting drunk, binge-eating junk food and overdosing on whatever's good on Netflix count?" Helena inquired as she put the gift down onto the coffee table, she'd open it later.

"It totally counts."  
"I'm sorry, I guess you can tell I'm not used to having guests; do you want coffee or something?" Helena then realized to ask, and Hunnigan shook her head a little.

"I can't stay, Major's waiting for me to go pick him and Seeley up."

"You guys sure seem to spend a lot of time together despite being divorced," Helena pointed out with a smirk. Hunnigan wasn't sure what she was implying exactly, perhaps that she didn't believe the marriage was really over. Or perhaps she was jealous. She did kind of sound like she was trying hard to not sound jealous.

 _Why would she be jealous?_

"Yeah, we're the best divorced couple ever, we get along so perfectly my mother even still invites him over for Thanksgiving and Christmas, completely disregarding how I might feel about that, presenting her act as something she does for Seeley's sake, but we all know she's trying to force Major and I back together even though it's obvious to everyone except to her that we don't even want to get back together," Hunnigan spoke, pausing to inhale deeply in the middle of her mini-rant, "...so, that will be fun," she added sarcastically.

"I know I shouldn't laugh, but... I'm feeling that emotion I can't remember the word for, you know, when you're glad something bad is happening to someone else," Helena chuckled.

"You mean sadism?" Hunnigan smirked.  
"No, no, the German-sounding word. I can't remember, now it's gonna bother me."

"I know. Which is why I won't tell you what it is even though I know exactly the word you're looking for. And now I'm feeling it when I think of you agonizing over not remembering it," Hunnigan said sweetly.

"You do realize I can just Google it?"  
"If I had time, I'd knock out your wi-fi."

"Now who's the sadist!" Helena gasped in exaggerated horror before they both laughed.  
"The word you're looking for is 'schadenfreude'. Merry Christmas," Hunnigan then said and Helena wished her the same before pulling her into a tight hug.

"Thank you. For everything," Helena said quietly into Hunnigan's shoulder and tightened her grip on her.

Hunnigan didn't know what exactly Helena was thanking her for, but she didn't question it nor was she the first to pull back from the hug. She didn't know it at the time, but her not being the first to let go changed everything.


	8. Chapter 8

Hunnigan felt uneasy and it wasn't just because she'd been forced to share a bed with her ex-husband. Her parents still lived in the same three-bedroom apartment they'd lived in since moving to New York before Hunnigan had even been born, and her mother naturally had told Hunnigan to say in her old room with Major and Seeley while Nolan stayed in his old room.

"If you keep tossing and turning like that, I'm gonna need seasickness medicine," Major mumbled.  
"You're welcome to sleep on the floor," Hunnigan told him.

"What's bothering you? And don't say 'nothing' because I know you better than that," he then said and turned to face her.  
"I honestly am not sure, I just have this gut-feeling that something's wrong. You know?"

"I know perfectly, going with my gut is how I catch bad guys," Major smiled.

"Yeah, but it's annoying thinking something's wrong but not being able to figure out _what_ exactly it is," Hunnigan sighed in frustration. At this rate, she wouldn't be able to sleep at all and tomorrow's forced family-time would be even worse if she was to be tired and cranky through it.

"It'll come to you, trust me," Major comforted sleepily and Hunnigan couldn't resist the urge to roll her eyes at him. He didn't care, he'd gotten more than used to her doing that at him when they'd been married.  
"Want me to do _the thing_ and rub your back like I used to? That always helps you sleep," he then offered with a grin and Hunnigan smiled a little.

"I didn't want to ask. I thought it would be weird."  
"I've always thought it's weird, I would never be able to relax to someone doing that to me, I'd get irritated," he chuckled quietly.

For years, Hunnigan too had considered it strange because she'd thought she was the only person on the planet who felt a weird tingly sensation in the back of her head and neck when she heard certain sounds. She hadn't known what to call it until her brother had sent her a link to an article about autonomous sensory meridian response.

Major shifted on the bed a little and leaned toward Hunnigan's ear, the tip of his nose pressing against her temple. She closed her eyes when he licked his lips and began to move his tongue around his mouth, the resulting wet sounds sending a cascade of tingles down Hunnigan's back. She'd just begun to relax enough to drift off when she realized what it was that bothered her, the thoughts frantically dashing from one to another as the separate details tried to make sense and form into a coherent realization.

 _Saliva. It was saliva on the gun. Helena's gun. It was in her mouth. She was about to kill herself._

"What's wrong?" Major frowned when Hunnigan sat up quickly and reached for her phone.  
"I figured it out," was all Hunnigan said before dialing Helena's number, muttering "pick up" repeatedly under her breath.

 _"Hey, this is Helena's voice, don't leave a message at the tone, I won't remember to get back to you, just text me like a normal person would've done in the first place. Bye!"_

"Shit," Hunnigan hissed and redialed.  
"Calm down."

"I can't right now," Hunnigan said and Major sighed. He sat up and scooted to Hunnigan's side of the bed and put his hand over her shoulder.  
"Tell me what's going on and we'll figure it out," he said and Hunnigan glared at him. He had no goddamn right to be behaving like the calm, supportive one who would make everything better somehow right now... even if he more or less was exactly that.

"I think a friend of mine might be about to do something stupid like hurt herself. And she's not picking up and I don't know if it-"  
"It's past midnight, she's probably asleep."

"And what if it's something worse than that? I have to go check on her."  
"Now? You can't be serious!" Major scoffed.

"Well, what the hell else am I supposed to do?" Hunnigan snapped at him, already beginning to get dressed.

"Call the local police station, explain the situation and ask someone to go see her," Major reasoned, and had the roles been reversed, Hunnigan knew she would've been telling him exactly the same. She also knew how annoyed she'd be if he refused to listen to her advice in that situation, advice which would undoubtedly be the most sensible thing to do, and still, she found herself wanting to tear his head off for trying to tell her what to do.

"I can't just sit here. I have to go."  
"It's an over four hour drive on a good day, and this is not a good day, the weather's crap, and who knows what else, this isn't sensible."

"I _need_ to, do you understand that?" Hunnigan hissed at him.

He obviously didn't. Perhaps he'd never felt the unpleasant gnawing feeling in his chest cavity when something was so bad it felt like it was literally eating you alive from the inside. What he did understand was how his ex-wife thought and behaved, and he knew little children would be building snowmen in hell before Ingrid Lee Hunnigan would stop and abandon her mission to get back to D.C. during the night between Christmas eve and Christmas day.

"Take my car," he sighed deeply, deflating a little as he visibly gave up trying to talk her out of it, "it's safer than that shopping cart you drive."

* * *

Helena hadn't planned on spending her Christmas getting drunk on rum and doing online searches on Hunnigan in the hopes of finding her from a social media site (no luck so far), but here she was.

 _Yeah, this is not creepy at all._

She didn't recognize the voice speaking in her mind this time because unlike usually, it was actually her own voice for once.

 _Maybe I've finally just lost it. That's it, I've finally just gone crazy like everyone always said I would. Either that or that I'd kill someone after getting angry. I guess getting so furious runs in the family, huh, grandma?_ she scoffed internally.

From what Helena recalled of her parents, her father had been just as bad at controlling his temper. She didn't remember much of her mother at all. According to Helena's grandmother, she'd been a lazy slut, but Helena wasn't inclined to take her grandmother's word for it. She'd also said Helena's father had driven the car into the wall on purpose to kill himself and his wife, but she'd never explained why exactly he would've done that.

 _Did she need to explain it? You know what it was. You heard things. Saw things._

Helena took another sip of her drink and tried to remember.

The house they'd grown up in had been of somewhat shoddy construction, meaning on the second floor, there was a small area that had a noticeable gap between the wall and the floor, leaving an opening which wasn't big enough for a child to fall through, but it did offer a good view into the living room. Helena had spent a lot of her time spying on her parents from there, usually when she'd been ordered to go to bed but hadn't gotten to sleep and had instead watched her parents get drunk with their friends or each other. Occasionally, she'd seen them have sex on the couch or on the floor, not really understanding what they were doing, but it had looked somewhat violent and she'd wondered what was the point of it all. Then there was the fight on the evening they'd died.

 _"You think that I don't know! Nothing insults me as much as the fact that you think I'm so stupid that I don't know!"_ her father had yelled, and her mother had responded equally loudly.  
 _"Fine! She's not yours! Is that what you want to hear? Are you happy now!"_

Then she'd left and he had followed her outside. Helena had heard their muffled arguing continue, the sound of the car starting and doors slamming. Then they were gone.

"Is it wrong that I don't even miss them?" Helena asked from no one as she swallowed another mouthful of rum and coke.

The only person from her family she missed was Deborah. She supposed it was probably because all evidence suggested she was only half blood-related, it made sense to miss someone who wasn't like the rest of her family. It would explain a lot. Deborah hadn't really looked like any of the close family from Helena's father's side either, and she certainly hadn't suffered from the same anger-control problems everyone from Helena's father's side seemed to share.

"So, the current theory is my father intentionally drove the car into a wall after my mother came clean about the fact that Deborah wasn't his child. Everyone cool with that?" Helena talked to herself, took a drink and frowned as she thought about it.

"Why would he have been driving, he was the one who chased after her, it makes more sense if she was the one who got in the car first. So, _she_ made the whole 'I'll kill myself and take you with me'-move. Does it matter? Not really, the end result is the same," she continued speaking and sighed. She finished her drink and went to make another before returning to the couch and hitting a key to wake her laptop up.

"Now, where was I? Oh, yes, not being creepy at all," she smirked to herself as she prowled through Facebook and instead of finding Ingrid Hunnigan there, she found Major. For someone who worked for the FBI and who'd been married to someone as aware of the perils of online life, he certainly sucked at securing his information. Perhaps he was one of those people who had never really paid attention to their privacy settings. Or then he didn't care and actually wanted to share everything publicly.

 _Not that I mind, more info for me,_ Helena smirked. She skipped reading his personal information because frankly, she felt she already knew too much thanks to what Hunnigan had told her about his private parts. She proceeded to go through his photo albums and quirked an eyebrow at the one which contained pictures of him skateboarding in ramps he'd built himself in his backyard, at least that's what the captions on the pictures suggested.

"No one over twenty should be doing that, I don't care what anyone says, skateboards are for Bart Simpson and Tony Hawk... both over twenty years old, hah, but still," Helena said and navigated through the rest of the albums.

"My God, man," she then chuckled a little. If she didn't know better, she would've assumed she was reading the posts of a seventy year old man who more than often liked his own photos and updates because he thought that was how it works. Maybe he was internally an old man, and a little bit computer-illiterate (which was ironic considering who he'd been married to).

"Finally, something good," she mumbled when she discovered an older album from before the divorce. The fact that Major hadn't just deleted it spoke volumes of how well he and Hunnigan still got along... or then he'd just not known how to delete it. Helena was relatively certain it was the former though, which was strange to her; had it been her, she could all too easily see herself destroying everything that reminded her of her ex.

 _Give the missus a few glasses of wine and her alter ego Lee Del Rey pops up,_ a caption by a photo of Hunnigan said. In it, she sat on the couch half a glass of red wine in front of her on the coffee table, her eyeglasses next to it. Her hair was shorter than Helena had ever seen it on her, barely reaching her shoulders. She had crossed one leg over the other, a black acoustic guitar resting on her thigh as she picked at the strings. It was an excellent photo, and frankly, it seemed Major had a secret talent of capturing candid moments, but Helena didn't think he was aware of his skill.

 _Or perhaps I'm thinking that way because I'm obsessing over the model_ , Helena sighed internally as she clicked through the album, shamelessly stealing quite a few pictures of Hunnigan and stashing them into a folder within a folder within a folder. Not the most secure method of hiding the theft but worked in a pinch.

 _"LOL Nice job, Major, knocking up your ex has got to be a new low. *slow clap*"_ one of his friends had commented on a photo of an ultrasound scan which Major had captioned "If there's one thing I've learned from Bob Ross it's that there are no mistakes, only happy accidents". Helena chuckled a little at the lengthy argument he'd gotten into with his friend who'd made the tacky comment.

 _Ever wonder what him fucking Hunnigan would look like?_ Sergeant Good asked in Helena's mind and she immediately cringed at the thought. Not because of the mental image itself (she wished it had been because of that) but because of how she found herself reacting to it.

 _No, I absolutely fucking refuse to go there,_ she thought defiantly but even as she did, she knew it was already too late for that.

 _We both know that's the kind of a thing you're into, you never rub one out to the thought of fucking someone yourself, no, you always think of other people fucking each other. It's kind of pathetic you can't insert yourself into a situation like that even in your mind, but I guess it makes sense considering how much you hate yourself over anything sexual._

"And whose fault is that?" she spat out loud to Sergeant Good's crass commentary.

 _Blame me all you want but the truth is you've always been like that, ever since you started humping your stuffed animals as a kid when you didn't even know what you were doing or why doing it while thinking of that time when you watched your dad fuck your mother on the floor made you feel funny inside and your little cunt all wet._

"Jesus Christ, why am I like this?" Helena groaned and buried her face in her hands.

 _What difference does it make, knowing why won't change anything; you'd still want to touch yourself while thinking about Major fucking Hunnigan. I bet she'd be on top, riding that beautiful cock which you can bet is meaty and as thick as your wrist._

The mental image was all too easy to conjure up and made her feel all too tingly inside.

"I hate myself," she muttered as she settled to lie down on her stomach on the couch and slipped her hand between her body and the cushions, tucking her fingers underneath the waistband of her underwear and pressing them over her clit.

She imagined Hunnigan straddling Major, leaning forward, her hands on his chest, his over her hip and his other arm around her midsection. She imagined Hunnigan rocking up and down on him, her ass bouncing as she did and as he thrust his hips up to bury his cock into her, the shaft glistening as it slid back and forth, coated by the slick wetness from her. She imagined him pulling her closer and grabbing a handful of her breasts, reaching to suck on her nipple. She imagined her throwing her head back, her hair cascading over her shoulder blades, free from the clip she usually held it up with. She imagined her straightening her back and him sitting up, her quickening the pace and taking charge, rebounding in his lap and fingering her clit as she fucked him until they both came.

Helena wiped her fingers on the inside of her underwear turned to lay on her back when the last of the aftershocks gave out. She hadn't felt this disgusted with herself in a long time. It was a familiar feeling, one that had followed every single time she'd masturbated (at least the times she'd known what she'd been doing), usually brought on by her having to take a moment to see the porn she'd been looking at while masturbating.

She hated porn. And yet, there she was, consuming it just like all the other disgusting depraved pieces of filth who would greatly be improved by death. It didn't make it better that she didn't go for the hardcore stuff but rather preferred watching women fucking other women with strap-ons; it didn't make it any less porn, it didn't ease her feeling of disgust toward herself afterward because getting off on porn also made her a hypocrite no matter how she tried to justify it to herself.

 _You're sick.  
_ "Yeah. Sounds about right," Helena sighed.

She turned to look at the computer, a picture of Hunnigan sitting at the kitchen table with one leg crossed over the other, taking a sip of her coffee while her free hand was resting on her laptop's touchpad, still in fullscreen on Helena's display. Major had captioned it "the love of my life hard at work already before morning coffee". It was several years old but Helena still felt bad for the guy, he genuinely did come across like he'd been very much in love with Hunnigan. Somehow, realizing that made Helena feel even more disgusted with herself.

Sighing, Helena glanced at the clock. It was almost four in the morning.

"One more drink, then I'm going to bed," she said to herself, got up and went to mix herself another rum and coke. She'd just circled over to the couch when there was a frantic knock on her door. Frowning, she put on her bathrobe to cover up and reached for her handgun which sat on the coffee table, recently thoroughly cleaned when she'd decided to postpone her suicide and do that instead.

She tucked the pistol into the oversized pocket in front of her robe, her hand squeezing the grip as she reached to unlock the door with her right hand and leaned to look through the spyhole.

"What the hell..." she muttered, clicked the safety back on and opened the door.

"Oh, thank God," Hunnigan sighed in visible relief and opened her arms only to instantly wrap them around Helena. The moment she did, Helena stepped to her and when Hunnigan's arms closed around her, she pressed the side of her face against Hunnigan's shoulder and closed her eyes. She didn't know what this was about, she didn't know why Hunnigan was here when there was no logical reason for her to be, but Helena didn't care, the reasons for her being here didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that she was here, her arm around the small of Helena's back, making her feel safe, her other hand gently running through her hair as she nuzzled Helena's head and pressed a hard kiss on top of it.

But as much as Helena would've wanted to remain in blissful ignorance of how and why they were here like this now, she couldn't put off asking about it forever. She held onto Hunnigan for a long moment, not really wanting to retreat from he embrace, but growing aware of this quickly beginning to turn awkward unless she did.

"Not that I don't appreciate this... but... what the hell are you doing here? I thought you said you were going to New York," she said.  
"I did, I came back. You didn't answer your phone, I was worried."

"I forgot it on vibrate. You... were worried? And you drove from New York to check up on me? I don't want to sound ungrateful for the attention but that sounds a bit excessive."

"I know what you were doing," Hunnigan said and Helena's mouth dropped open. She couldn't believe Hunnigan would've somehow managed to keep track of Helena's recent online activities, let alone magically figure out Helena had just masturbated to the thought of her. Then she realized what Hunnigan was referring to.

When she elaborated on what she knew and how she'd put it together, Helena was internally screaming at herself to deny it, come up with some kind of a lie and deliver it convincingly enough to get Hunnigan to believe it, but... she couldn't. She had nothing to say. She felt awkward and embarrassed about it all but at the same time, she was moved by the realization that someone cared enough to come check up on her at a time like this. Then she went back to feeling embarrassed and a little guilty because evidently Hunnigan had driven here on Christmas eve just to confirm that Helena was okay.

Dozens of things could've gone wrong during the drive, at the worst, she could've gotten killed in an accident, and it would've been more or less Helena's fault. At the very least Hunnigan being here right now meant that there was a little boy in New York who would be waking up to Christmas morning only to find that his mother wasn't there because of Helena.

 _I didn't ask her to come here,_ Helena thought irritably.

She stepped to the side, silently inviting Hunnigan in. When the door was closed, Helena went to the living room and realized her laptop was still open on Major's Facebook-page. She cleared her throat and hurried to close it, trying to look nonchalant and like she wasn't hurrying to hide something from Hunnigan. When the lid was closed, she dug the pistol out from her pocket and placed it on the table. She noticed the way Hunnigan glanced at it.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna shoot myself with you standing there," Helena said dryly, released the magazine and pulled the slide back, capturing the bullet in her palm when it was ejected from the chamber.  
"I wasn't thinking about that."  
"Okay," Helena shrugged. She still didn't know what to say and it was becoming apparent that Hunnigan didn't really have words right now either. Helena supposed she hadn't thought further than arriving here.

 _Yeah, probably thinking she'd find your corpse. Imagine driving all night with a concern like that weighing you down. You cause nothing but trouble and pain to everyone around you. It's remarkable really. Everyone who has ever cared about you got pain in return. You don't deserve to have anyone care about you,_ her grandmother's voice said.

"You shouldn't have come here, there was no need," Helena muttered. Hunnigan sighed a little and sat down next to Helena.  
"Maybe not by the time I figured it out."

"You've already done more than any decent person should be expected to do in your shoes, you don't have to worry about me, or go around blaming yourself even if I did go through with it despite you trying to help, it's not about you or what you could do differently."

"Helena, I'm not here to pre-emptively absolve myself of guilt, I'm here because I care about you. I don't want you to die."  
"Let's just forget this happened."

"I can't do that. If our roles were reversed, would you?" Hunnigan reasoned and Helena exhaled deeply.

"No, I wouldn't," she admitted quietly. A heavy silence draped itself over them like a thick fog, and Helena could tell Hunnigan was working really hard to find the right words, the right questions, and Helena would've wanted to tell her she didn't need to bother, it wouldn't change anything.

"What is causing this? What's hurting you?" she finally spoke. Helena scoffed a little. Considering everything that had gone on in her life recently, Hunnigan should've known better. Then again, Helena accepted that she was being a bit unreasonable because since Deborah's death, Helena had made sure she'd come across as fine. No one was supposed to know the extent of her hurt, Hunnigan wouldn't either had Helena not left her gun out, or had Helena gone ahead and pulled the trigger instead of stopping when Hunnigan had knocked on her door yesterday.

"I mean, I have some idea, but... I didn't know it was this bad. I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner."

 _Oh, look at that. She is here trying to save your fat ass and_ she's _the one apologizing to_ you _about something she's not even responsible for. Nice job, you stupid bitch._

Sergeant Good's voice this time. Helena wondered when she could start considering herself actually schizophrenic with all these voices in her head. She supposed it didn't count as mental illness since she knew the voices weren't actual voices, they weren't auditory hallucinations, they were dark negative thoughts she'd given names to.

"Don't," was all she managed to say.  
"Please, talk to me."

"I can't. I don't have anything to say."  
"Can I help?"

"No."  
"Helena..."

"Look, if I wanted to talk about this, I would've called someone. But I don't. So just drop it," Helena said sternly.  
"Okay. We'll just sit here in silence then," Hunnigan nodded, slapped her palms over her knees and sat up straight, staring at the wall in front of her.

"You have places to be, so please, just... go home."  
"You're right, I do have a place to be and right now that place is here. I'm not going to leave you alone."

"How did you even get in the building?" Helena then asked, realizing it was the middle of the night and that the door to the building locked automatically at 6.00 P.M. and unless you had a key, you couldn't enter.  
"It involves paying a prostitute to distract the doorman while I hacked the electronic lock."

"Seriously?"

"No, but the truth is boring," Hunnigan said before explaining she'd simply flashed her DSO-badge to the superintendent who'd been on call and he'd taken her seriously enough since the badge looked as official as they came when in reality the only authority it gave its bearer was a few parking privileges and even those applied only in the D.C. area. Helena chuckled a little.

"Stop making me feel better," she then scolded Hunnigan and tried to stifle the rest of the laughter about to erupt from her just because Hunnigan had joked around.  
"Never."

"I'm not gonna do anything to myself, you can go home. I don't want your son to have to spend Christmas without you just because of me," Helena then said.  
"Ah, so that's it. You think asking me to stay would take something away from him. So, you won't ask me even if you wanted to."

"It _would_ take you away from him."  
"I guarantee he won't even notice because my parents will be busy spoiling him. So, stop using that as an excuse. Right now, you need me more than he does. Maybe saying that makes me a horrible mother but I'm still right. Seeley is okay, you're not."

"I'm not okay," Helena nodded and burst into tears without any warning and unable to hold it back. Without missing a beat, Hunnigan wrapped her arms around Helena and pulled her close.  
"You don't have to be, not so soon after everything. Just don't give up, we can fix this. I will help you, I promise," Hunnigan whispered.

"I don't know if you can, if anyone can," Helena whimpered in between shuddering breaths.  
"We'll fix it. Together. Trust me."

And Helena did.


	9. Chapter 9

Helena woke up shortly before noon after finally having managed to get to sleep. She'd stayed up until almost seven in the morning, talking with Hunnigan, telling her about how the demeaning voice which had always been there to tell her how worthless she is had gotten really loud and impossible to ignore lately, which in return had resulted in her wanting to give up. Hunnigan had argued that voice was wrong but understood that it wasn't as simple as that because the "ignore it and it'll go away"-method of dealing with that particular type of unpleasantness didn't work.

By the time she'd finished talking and literally crying on Hunnigan's shoulder, she'd felt better (and had soaked Hunnigan's sweater with her tears and with her runny nose). Hunnigan hadn't offered platitudes, she hadn't said it would be okay and expected it would be enough, she hadn't tried forcing a solution to the problem. She'd just been there and listened, and Helena hadn't realized until just then that being heard was what she'd needed the most. That and the hug she'd spent most of the early morning in until she'd decided she'd been done talking and crying, and just wanted to sleep.

 _Oh, doesn't this look nice, hm?_ Sergeant Good inquired in the back of Helena's head when she noticed the generous view of Hunnigan's chest. She'd had to borrow a shirt from Helena after the younger woman's tears had soaked her own, and the only shirt Helena'd had clean was the one she never worse because she hated the low-cut neckline. She'd gotten it from Deborah a few years ago, her younger sister stating that with a decent push-up bra, the shirt would do justice to Helena's rack. She hadn't realized Helena had no desire to show off said rack, but she'd accepted the gift regardless and forgotten about it over time.

 _Stop_ , she scolded herself but didn't do anything to avert her eyes. Instead, she found herself paying more attention, glancing over the thin white stretch marks, counting the freckles on the olive skin, shamelessly staring at the curve of the breast.

 _God, I just want to bury my face in her tits and disappear from the world._

Helena snorted quietly at the thought lancing through her head. It was ridiculous, sounded like something someone in one of those poorly-written romance novels might say.

 _Why am I like this?_ she asked herself once again. She jolted a little when a demanding and loud noise came from the bedside table when Hunnigan's phone vibrated. Helena then quirked an eyebrow when she felt Hunnigan press her palm against her back and rub a comforting circle on it.

 _She thought I jumped because I was having a nightmare, this is what she did at the cabin too,_ Helena mused. She tucked her head under Hunnigan's chin, not waking Hunnigan up completely to let her know of the incoming phone call. She knew she was being selfish but she didn't think she'd get many more chances like this. She'd feel bad over it later, she was sure. But right now that didn't matter.

"Oh, crap," Hunnigan muttered after reaching for her phone and unlocking it. Helena turned to lay on her back and opened her eyes slowly, hoping to still look sleepy enough to pass for someone who'd only just now woken up.  
"What's wrong?"

"Seventeen missed calls from my mother and, I kid you not, thirty-six text messages. Half of them are empty. She's not an experienced texter," Hunnigan smirked, sat up and dialed her mother. Helena leaned her head into her palm and watched Hunnigan get up from the bed as her mother answered the phone. Helena couldn't make out what she was saying but she could hear the agitated tone through the phone.

"Sí, lo sé, mamá, pero esto era una emergencia. Literalmente de vida o muerte. A ver, si quisiera hacer algo solo para ponerte mal, no me habría molestado siquiera en venir en un primer momento."

Hunnigan pinched the bridge of her nose before lowering her hand to rest on her hip as she listened to the angry rant continue.

"Soy una adulta, no necesito pedirte permiso. No me importa que seas mi madre, no te da el derecho a actuar de la forma que haces. No voy a tener esta discusión, voy a colgar. Te veré cuando te vuelva a ver."

Hunnigan ended the call and muttered something under her breath before turning to face Helena, who slowly got out of bed as well.

"I don't speak Spanish and I only understand it if it's spoken slowly and in a horrible American accent, but I get the feeling your mother was not happy with you and wants you to come home," she chuckled.  
"That about sums it up," Hunnigan confirmed. "So, get ready and let's go."

"What are you talking about?"  
"If you think I'm just gonna leave you alone in here, you are sorely mistaken."

"Jesus Christ, Hunnigan, I'm fine, I'm not gonna do anything!"  
"No you're not because you're coming with me. Unless you'd rather I'll have you involuntarily hospitalized."

"You wouldn't dare!" Helena narrowed her eyes, quickly becoming genuinely agitated.  
"Watch me."

"If you do that, I'll never forgive you."  
"At least you'll be alive to hold a grudge," Hunnigan shrugged.

"You really are serious," Helena muttered and Hunnigan nodded before tugging the borrowed T-shirt over her head and tossing it to Helena before reaching for her own clothes, oblivious to Helena's gaze washing over her.  
"Of course I am. Now, chop-chop, take a shower while I scrounge up something to eat and let's go," Hunnigan said and headed out toward the kitchen, Helena following behind her.

"I doubt your parents would appreciate you showing up with a stray human at Christmas."  
"According to my mother, I've already ruined everything, so you being there wouldn't make things worse. If anything, it might save me from my mother's wrath. She's less likely to murder me if there are witnesses."

"This makes me very uncomfortable. Don't make me do this," Helena pleaded. It was bad enough that her mind was in the gutter first thing in the morning and she doubted it would resurface anytime soon, add to that the fact that she was extremely hungover. She genuinely didn't believe she would be capable of handling meeting Hunnigan's parents in this state.

"I'm not going to force you, but I really am worried about you and wouldn't want you to be alone."  
"How about a compromise; I'll text you every five minutes so you'll know I'm alive," Helena smirked and Hunnigan smiled.

"I guess that'll have to do," she said and opened the fridge, hoping to find something to make breakfast out of but found only an almost empty bottle of cola and half a bottle of rum, along with an expired jug of milk, one egg, and ketchup.  
"You live like this?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"I wasn't really planning on living."  
"Helena."

"Too soon?"  
"Much," Hunnigan sighed and slammed the fridge door shut. "Okay. Plan B, we're going to my place."

"Look, I can just order take out, I'll be fine!"  
"You know I won't let this go, so just indulge me," Hunnigan rolled her eyes. Helena exhaled deeply and gave up. She got dressed, grabbed her shoulder bag and was about to grab her gun when Hunnigan gripped her wrist.

"The gun stays here."  
"I feel naked without it."

"I don't care," Hunnigan said and tugged on Helena, dragging her outside.  
"Nice wheels," Helena commented when Hunnigan pointed out the black SUV and they climbed in.

"It's Major's. Then again, he did admit he used the alimony as the money down for this, so technically I _did_ pay for a part," Hunnigan chuckled as she started the engine.  
"I don't think I've ever heard of the ex-wife paying the alimony, usually it's the other way around," Helena muttered.

"I suppose it is rare. We agreed on a lump sum and got it over with. Back then the intention was to cut ties and not have to deal with each other, but then Seeley happened, and I couldn't just _not_ tell him," Hunnigan shared.  
"He seemed glad to have him," Helena said and only when Hunnigan frowned a little, she realized she'd slipped information she shouldn't have had, she wasn't supposed to know about how happy Major had been when he'd discovered Hunnigan had been pregnant. "You know, based on how he interacted with Seeley, granted I didn't witness much, but compared to how my parents were, you know," she tried saving it, barely managing to not stammer and trip over her words, an unpleasant heat rising to her face when the terror of possibly getting caught spying gripped her heart.

"Well, you're not wrong," Hunnigan commented and Helena dared to breathe again when Hunnigan seemed to let it go without questioning Helena about it. After a few minutes, they arrived at the apartment building where Hunnigan lived.

Helena had half expected Hunnigan's home to be decorated with black and chrome, and with minimalist furniture. Instead, she seemed to prefer shades of brown and beige, the tones giving the apartment a warm overall feeling.

"Watch your step," Hunnigan said as she went ahead, kicking Seeley's toys cluttering the floor to the side to clear a path.  
"No worries," Helena said.

"You can leave your bag and coat there, I'll go grab you a fresh towel."  
"Towel? What, why?"

"For drying off after a shower, unless you're the type who just shakes off like a wet dog," Hunnigan smirked.  
"Well, no, but... okay, fine, I do need a shower," Helena sighed and took her shoes off before following Hunnigan to the bathroom. She accepted the towel and closed the door behind Hunnigan who excused herself to make breakfast while Helena showered.

She undressed and humphed agitatedly at herself when she noticed the dried white stains in her underwear from last night's self-indulgence, cursing her stupidity over not having taken the time to change. Now she'd need to wear them even after showering, or go commando, neither option sounding exactly appealing.

 _Oh, come now, it's not the end of the world, and it's not like this is the first time you've had to go about the day wearing cum-stained undies,_ Sergeant Good reminded her and Helena suddenly felt like vomiting.

 _You're disgusting. You're sick!_ her grandmother's voice joined in. Right now, Helena was inclined to agree, even though a tiny voice within was trying to contradict the statement, rather reminding her there was nothing wrong with her. It was quickly silenced, assassinated by the loud chorus of hate.

She showered quickly and toweled off just as fast before proceeding to pull her jeans back on in the humid air, the fabric clinging to her skin. Getting her bra on was worse and even more uncomfortable. She muttered every curse she could think of as she unrolled the garment and pulled it down while having to lift her breasts to adjust them in a desperate attempt to find a comfortable fit.

 _I'm getting a breast reduction,_ she grumbled internally after finally getting everything in place and put on her T-shirt. She then shoved the panties into her pocket and finally exited the bathroom.

When she entered the kitchen, Hunnigan told her to take a seat and placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her, then retrieved the bread from the cabinet and finally, the butter, tomatoes and cucumber from the fridge. Helena didn't honestly think she could eat all that, but didn't bother telling that to Hunnigan who seemed determined to ensure she had a decent breakfast.

"Coffee's almost done, grab some if you want, I'm gonna go shower and I'll be with you soon," she said.

"Thank you," Helena managed before Hunnigan went. She ate the eggs and the bacon first, slowly growing more hungry as she did, and when she was finished, she decided she had room for a sandwich. She made one and went to grab coffee to wash it down with. She let out an amused scoff when she looked into the fridge and saw how immaculately clean and well organized it was; somehow little things like that were so Hunnigan. Helena grabbed the small glass container and poured milk from it into her coffee and walked around the apartment as she sipped it and ate her sandwich.

The apartment's walls were mostly decorated with framed photo collages, most with pictures of Hunnigan with Seeley, some of them had pictures of people Helena assumed were relatives and friends. Helena leaned in to take a closer look of a photo in which Hunnigan seemed to be on a small stage with a guitar, accompanied by a few others with their instruments. She looked like she was probably in her late teens in the photo.

 _Well, who knew, you used to be a rock star,_ Helena smiled a little. There were a few similar ones, and more that seemed to be taken at parties, there was even one in which she was apparently grabbing a drink with Leon, his arm over her shoulders as she leaned her head to his, both of them raising their drinks to whoever had been holding the camera.

Next was a series which Helena assumed was from Hunnigan's college days, the photo of her in action on a basketball court catching her attention immediately.

 _Oh, that's going in the wank bank, amirite?_

"For the love of God, just shut up," Helena muttered to herself and sighed, moving to look over the bookshelf. The books there were mostly crime novels and some science fiction, a collection of various trophies and medals on the top of the shelf in a neat row.

 _She really likes to win,_ Helena smiled and returned to the kitchen. Hunnigan joined her shortly after finishing her shower and getting dressed, tying her wet hair back.

"Want a refill?" she inquired as she poured herself a mug and Helena nodded.  
"Thanks."

"Where'd you get milk?" Hunnigan frowned as she turned to put the pot back in its place.  
"...the fridge, where else?" Helena chuckled as she sipped her coffee.

"Yeah, but I don't... oh, dear."  
"What? What's happening, why are you making that face?" Helena narrowed her eyes when Hunnigan bit her lower lip as she was desperately trying not to laugh.

"It's breastmilk."  
"It's _what!_ "

"I still nurse Seeley, but I donate the surplus, I just put it in the fridge to wait until I could freeze it," Hunnigan explained and lost her poker face.  
"I just thought you'd stored the rest of a milk jug in a smaller container to make more room in the fridge!"

"Well, if it's any consolation, it has a lot of health benefits," Hunnigan wheezed and doubled over.  
"It's not funny," Helena pouted.

"It's _huh-larious!"  
_ "Promise me we'll never speak of this!" Helena said and without thinking went to take another drink from her mug, realizing she was doing it only when Hunnigan howled with laughter at what she was doing. Helena let the coffee dribble back into the mug.


	10. Chapter 10

Helena took a seat at the bar and checked her phone, more than a little disappointed to discover she had imagined it vibrating, there were no new messages. Hunnigan had spoken with her the entire drive to New York and after she'd ended the call, Helena had realized just how damn quiet it was in her apartment, so she'd decided to head out to her favorite bar after checking to make sure it was open on Christmas day.

"Helena Fucking Harper, what are you doing here on a day like this?" the bartendress asked and Helena smirked.  
"Jane Fucking Palmer, I'm here ordering a drink," she said and the bartendress was already mixing it, remembering Helena's go-to drink by heart.

"I take it you two know each other," a male voice commented and Helena turned to look to her side. "Or then you're just incredibly rude to each other for no reason," Leon added as he took a seat on the barstool next to Helena and ordered a whiskey, neat.  
"We served together, she saved my life in Afghanistan," Jane said and served Leon his drink.

"I was only doing my job."

"What happened?" Leon asked and Helena sighed a little as Jane told the story. From her point of view, it sounded like Helena was a hero. From Helena's point of view, she was not. She hated being considered larger than life only for doing duty. Besides, she hadn't saved everyone. She hadn't saved Maxima.

"We were supporting a team that was hunting some high priority targets and our vehicle hit an IED, and before anyone knew what the hell was happening, we were being pelted with rockets and bullets, and this one carries me and three others to cover and patches us up so we don't just die while waiting for backup."

"It was nothing, besides, you didn't even weigh anything with your leg blown off," Helena smirked and Jane guffawed.  
"I didn't know you served. Thank you f-" Leon said began to say and Helena groaned loudly.

"Yes, yes, you're welcome for my service," she sighed and downed the shot Jane had poured her.  
"Most of us don't actually like it when people say that," Jane whispered loudly and refilled Helena's glass, only to need to do it again a few seconds later after Helena greedily emptied it. She wanted to skip right to the passing out in a pool of vomit-part.

"Sorry."  
"It's fine, I know you and everyone saying it mean well," Helena said.

"You wanna get a table and sit with me?" Leon asked and Helena narrowed her eyes at him.  
"If you're thinking of hitting on me, now is really not the time."

"I wasn't, I was just asking if you wanted to sit with me so neither of us has to look like the losers we are, getting drunk alone on a Christmas day," he chuckled.  
"All right. Jane, can we get a couple of Zombie Punches. Supersize 'em and put them on his tab," she then smirked and Leon scoffed amusedly.

"Zombie punch, really?" he asked.  
"It's got all kinds of tasty goodness and a ton of rum, and it's served in a _vase,_ you'll love it," she assured him.

"Well, the serving size certainly has my attention," he laughed.  
"Why are you here?"

"Same as you, to get drunk."  
"I would've imagined you'd have somewhere else to be," Helena frowned a little. He informed her that Sherry was with Claire and Chris, and they'd travelled to spend the holidays with Barry Burton and his family.

"They did invite me to go with them, but I didn't want to because I already know I would've messed up their Christmas too, so I rather stuck with my own tradition, which is to get drunk and spend quality time alone," he said, then turned his attention to Jane when she served him the cocktail which came in a large copper vase, like Helena had said it would.

"Wow, I'm gonna have to remember this drink so I can order it again," he commented after taking a taste.

"I'm sure you'll remember," Helena grinned as she slid down from the barstool and went to sit at a table with Leon, not telling him she was sure he'd remember when he'd get his credit card statement and realize the cocktail in question cost over sixty dollars if supersized.

"So, why are _you_ here?" he then asked her as he took a seat across from her.

"I wasn't invited to go anywh... well, okay, technically, I was kind of invited somewhere," Helena corrected herself when she recalled Hunnigan having threatened to take her with her to New York, "but it would've been awkward so I decided to stay home and get drunk. It's my tradition too," she said.

"Listen... I've been around long enough to notice when people aren't okay and frankly, you don't seem okay. Plus, I know a thing or two about what it's like when one moment you're thrilled to be alive and the next you're sort of disappointed that you're alive," he said and Helena quirked an eyebrow.

"I seem disappointed to be alive?"  
"No, but like... when the investigation was over and you didn't get the death penalty, you seemed relieved, but recently, you've seemed a bit down, and I just thought..." he trailed off and shrugged one shoulder a little.

Truthfully, he wasn't wrong, not completely. Helena had been relieved... but that had been _before_ the charges against her had been dismissed. She'd been relieved when she'd thought she would be given the lethal injection which she believed was the default punishment when it came to dealing with people who were pretty much single-handedly responsible for the President's death. She'd _wanted_ the death penalty. She'd finished her mission, Simmons was dead, Deborah was avenged, there was nothing left to do, it should've been the end of her story.

But then, Hunnigan had happened, just like she'd happened last night. Helena wasn't sure if she should consider Hunnigan her personal savior or a goddess of torture and punishment sent to ensure Helena wouldn't be given the easy exit she wanted.

"I almost killed myself yesterday," Helena said frankly and Leon paused for a few seconds, swallowed the drink in his mouth and cleared his throat, and Helena could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to think of something to say. She spoke again before he did, offering him a little more time to think, although she wasn't sure what she was expecting him to say, or if she wanted him to say anything in the first place.

"I literally had my gun in my mouth, and I was already pulling the trigger when Hunnigan showed up," she said and continued to explain the whole situation and what had happened later that night and today (leaving out the embarrassing part about the breast milk in her coffee).

"And now I'm torn between feeling grateful for everything she's done and angry because I didn't ask her to come over here, but she did and now it's on me that her parents are pissed off and she couldn't be there with son this morning."  
"Sounds like she really cares about you, what a bitch," Leon commented sarcastically and took a long sip of his drink, sucking on the straw hard enough to dent his cheeks.

"You know I didn't mean it like that."

"I know. Listen... I've been there. After Raccoon City, I was determined to take down Umbrella and I was thrilled to have survived, but that feeling and that bravado faded a lot faster than I would've imagined. I started realizing how shitty things are when a pharmaceutical company can run an entire city and use its people as human guinea pigs without their consent, and no one bats an eye. The corruption of it all and the feeling of helplessness when I thought of how little I can do alone sent me spiraling," he shared and shook his head a little before leaning to take another long sip of his drink.

"What did you do?" Helena asked quietly.

"Put my gun to my head. Like you, I was already pulling the trigger, but then I thought... what would that accomplish? I'd be the coward who gave up. I'd be abandoning Sherry. She was just a kid, she'd..." he paused to swallow hard and take a few deep breaths as he struggled to keep the stoic mask on and hide the fact that he was about to cry when he though back on it all.

"She'd gotten infected, she'd lost her parents, Claire had ran off too, and now after all that, Sherry was practically held hostage and experimented on by our own government, I couldn't just leave her. Even if I didn't do much good in the end, at least I was there... until I wasn't," Leon mumbled and took another drink, deciding to leave the straw out and drink straight from the vase instead.

"It turned out okay this way, I suppose... even if it doesn't always really feel like it," he said and took another drink.  
"What do you do when the pain comes back and starts getting overwhelming?" Helena muttered.  
"The one thing anyone would tell you not to do, I get drunk," Leon offered a rueful smile.

* * *

"You sound drunk," Hunnigan commented when she finally had a chance to call Helena again. It was past midnight and everyone else had gone to bed, Hunnigan had the living room to herself.  
"So do you," Helena countered and Hunnigan chuckled as she poured herself a glass of her father's scotch, leaned back against the couch's armrest and raised her feet onto the cushions.

"It's because I am getting there," Hunnigan admitted. "Believe me, after the day I've had, I _need_ this."  
"That bad, huh? At least your mother didn't murder you."

"Oh, I tell you what, she tried. There was a lot of yelling."  
"Yelling doesn't kill you."

"You haven't been yelled at by my mother," Hunnigan laughed softly, twirled the drink in the glass for a moment and took a sip.  
"I'm sorry, Hunnigan. I'm the reason you got in all sorts of trouble."

"You don't have to apologize. Coming to check up on you was totally worth getting yelled at. Besides, it's not like I didn't get something out of it."  
"And what's that?" Helena questioned.

"A hearty laugh when you drank that breast milk latte."  
"You promised you wouldn't speak of it again!"

"I promised not to tell anyone else, I didn't say I wouldn't tease you about it when it's just you and I," Hunnigan laughed quietly and Helena scoffed.  
"Yeah, yeah, a part of you is now inside me, stored in my colon forever, probably. Does that make you happy?" she drawled.

"Well, when you put it like that it just sounds nasty," Hunnigan said and poured herself another drink. "So, how are you feeling?" she then asked. Helena sighed deeply on the other end of the call and Hunnigan could imagine her rolling her eyes.  
"I'm fine, considering. I don't feel like talking about it."

"Perhaps you don't, but you can't deny you need help."  
"You're my support agent, so support," Helena chuckled, and Hunnigan did too before informing her that her attempt at dismissing the issue would not work.

"I'm not really the type who shares in a circle."  
"I know, but it doesn't change anything, the fact still remains that you need professional help. You can keep stubbornly putting it off, but you shouldn't. There's no shame in it and frankly, you'll feel better once you get started. Don't you want to feel better?"

"Of course I do. And I know you're right, but it's... difficult to get started, you know?" Helena muttered and Hunnigan exhaled deeply. She took a swallow of the scotch.  
"I know. Believe me, I know," she said quietly.

"Hunnigan?"  
"Yeah?"

"I'm kind of tired, but I don't want to hang up because I know that the moment I do, I won't be able to sleep anyway because it's too quiet. Can you... um... could you wait until I fall asleep before hanging up?" Helena requested.  
"Sure," Hunnigan said and finished her drink, deciding against pouring another.

"I appreciate it."  
"Want me to keep talking or...?"

"I would like that. It would be less awkward, I guess," Helena chuckled a little and yawned, the sound of her bedsheets and blanket swishing clearly audible as she moved, a light scratching sound following as Helena adjusted the cord and the earpiece after getting to bed.

"Once upon a time, a young woman named Amanda Cousland travelled to a fortress known as Ostagar to join king Cailan in his fight against darkspawn that were threatening to overwhelm the kingdom..."


	11. Chapter 11

Helena snapped awake, her body covered in sweat, her blanket, pillow and the sheets unpleasantly damp with it as well. Her phone clattered to the floor as a result of her abrupt movement. She yanked the earbuds from her ears and gathered the cord into a messy bunch before tossing it over to the nightstand, then leaned over the edge of the bed to feel the floor for her phone. It took her a while to find it, but when she did, she was relieved to find it was still intact.

Helena blew out a breath and wiped her face and neck. She'd been having a nightmare, nothing out of the ordinary about that, but it had been different from the usual. Most people assumed that the nightmares that came with PTSD were always straight-forward flashbacks to the traumatic events, but that wasn't the case, at least not how Helena experienced it.

Often, the dreams became odd combinations of her childhood, her experiences in the military, and ordinary things she'd done during the day, people she'd spoken with, or thought about before falling asleep. That resulted in dreams like the one in which she'd found herself under attack at a grocery store, only the enemies were armed with huge wooden hair brushes rather than assault rifles, and the weapons Helena had with her were useless.

This dream had been worse. She'd dreamt she was back at the site of the explosion, only the explosion hadn't been caused by an IED, but by a huge dragon, breathing fireballs at her as she tried to save her teammates, Leon and Jane fighting off a horde of zombies trying to get to her, Jane beating them back with her prosthetic leg to buy time as Helena tried to save Maxima who wasn't Maxima but Hunnigan, or what was left of her, her upper half not dead but not alive either. Then her teeth had been on Helena's throat, then _in_ her throat, and she woke up, a phantom pain stinging on the side of her neck where she'd been bitten in her dream.

Helena took a few shuddering breaths and blinked rapidly in an attempt to dispel the horrible mental image that kept popping back the harder she tried to push it away. She sighed and got up, having to take a moment to cough violently, regretting having smoked so much last night; her throat was sore. She then went to plug her phone into the charger and powered it back on.

 _I'm assuming your battery drained. I hope you slept well, and good morning! Text me when you get this, okay?_ a message from Hunnigan read. She'd sent it about two in the morning which was when Helena supposed the phone call had ended.

 _You were right the battery died. I slept ok thanks for asking how was your night did you get any sleep? I'm sorry if it got weird i don't remember much of the call but i do recall asking you to stay on the line awkward huh lol_

Helena blew out a breath and went to the kitchen, filled a tall glass with water and drank it greedily, needing a refill immediately after.

"Oh, God," she breathed heavily, filled the glass once more and took it with her to the bedroom. Right now, she had no intention of getting out of bed today unless she absolutely had to.

 _Well, it gave me an excuse to ramble on about_ Dragon age _, so it was my pleasure. How are you feeling?_

Helena smiled a little at the concern, she couldn't recall anyone really worrying about her this much. Granted, she didn't think she'd ever given anyone quite as much reason to worry as she had given to Hunnigan recently.

 _I'm ok. Really. I appreciate your concern but i don't want you to worry about me i'm ok,_ Helena assured and put the phone away yet again. She ran her tongue over her teeth and decided to go brush them before settling to lay back down. It wouldn't take away her headache or the nausea, but it would make her feel closer to human again. She'd just finished rinsing her mouth when she suffered another vicious coughing fit.

"Fuck, maybe it isn't the cigarettes, maybe I'm getting sick," she exhaled deeply after recovering. "Just what I needed," she added in a mutter and went to the bedroom. She took her laptop and put it on a chair which she then dragged over next to the bed before diving under the covers. She opened it and navigated to Netflix, browsed for a moment for something to watch, something that didn't require her to be able to fully pay attention to it. Cartoons tended to work best for hangover days like this. Her phone chimed and she grabbed it.

 _I worry because I care, that's all._

Helena stared at the words for a long time as she contemplated on what to reply.

 _The fact that you care means the world to me._

She would've wanted to say something more but didn't know quite what it would be. She gave up and put the phone away. She was sure Hunnigan had better things to do at the moment, she'd probably text or call Helena later.

 _No, she won't because as soon as the holidays are over and you have no excuses for not seeking professional help, Hunnigan is gonna abandon you. You won't be her problem anymore, you'll be the hospital's problem, the agency shrink's problem, but not hers, and she will have no more reasons to keep talking to you,_ her grandmother's voice crept into her mind and Helena swallowed hard. She would've wanted to deny it but couldn't, the odds were her grandmother was right. Hunnigan was just doing her duty keeping Helena alive until she could pass her to the next person, what else would it be, why would she genuinely care?

 _No one cares about you. No one's looking after you, why would they? You don't deserve it, you're here to perform a service and be happy you were useful, don't you even dare expect others to care for you. Who do you think you are, someone who matters? Don't flatter yourself, you stupid bitch._

Helena jumped a little when her phone rang and she hurried to answer it.

"Yes?"  
"Hey. Just checking up on you," Leon's voice came from the other end.

"I'm fine, but thanks. And thanks for listening to me the entire evening," Helena said.  
"Anytime. And hey... I know everything hurts right now, but remember that a lot of people are alive because you saved them. Keep that in mind when you're tempted to beat yourself up, okay?" he said and Helena smiled.

"Thank you."

"So... this might be a long shot, but you wanna hang out?" Leon then inquired. Helena's first instinct was to tell him he didn't need to come over to keep an eye on her, that she was fine, that she wouldn't do anything stupid. Then she paused to consider that perhaps he needed the company as much as she did.

"I'll bring ruuu-uuummm," he added in a sing-song-y voice before she had a chance to answer.  
"Augh, don't talk about rum to me or I'll throw up. How can you even consider drinking again?" she groaned and he laughed softly.

"I don't get hungover anymore."  
"That is not normal and it's definitely a sign of alcoholism rather than something you should be bragging about," Helena pointed out.

"Do you wanna hang out or not?" Leon asked, ignoring Helena's argument regarding his excessive drinking.  
"I do, actually," Helena then said, gave him her address and ended the call after he'd promised to be there shortly.

* * *

Hunnigan's entire back ached thanks to having slept on a mattress that was too soft compared to what she was used to. She was tempted to ask Major for a backrub, but decided against it. She knew herself (and him) well enough to know it would very likely turn into one of those "one thing leads to another"-moments, and that could get awkward.

Then again, her mother had already made things awkward in almost every imaginable way, starting from berating Hunnigan over the fact that she still breastfed Seeley, to practically shoving Hunnigan and Major's faces together and screaming "now kiss!" She failed to understand and accept the thing Major and Hunnigan had realized about their relationship long ago.

They loved each other, but they'd never really been _in love_ with each other, that was the problem. They were friends, they got along, they had fun, but they were not lovers. The reason Hunnigan had agreed to marry him was mostly because her mother had pressured her about it. After all, there was something "so pathetic about a bride in her thirties", as she'd kindly put it, so it wasn't like Hunnigan could afford to dilly-dally, even if at the time she'd been in her early twenties. As for why Major had proposed in the first place, Hunnigan assumed it was also an idea her mother had implanted into his head, coupled with the belief that once you find a girl you like and get along with, marry her to make sure she won't run off.

There was one thing Hunnigan missed about being married to him, and that was the sex. She hated how shallow it made her sound (when she imagined Major saying the same about her, it hardly felt like a compliment), but it was the unfortunate truth. He was a patient, dedicated lover and over the years they'd been together, he'd gotten very skilled at pleasing her specifically by figuring out her likes and sensitive spots and how to manipulate them the best. The man was great in bed, how was she supposed to _not_ miss having sex with him?

That was yet another thing Hunnigan hadn't been able to simply accept about herself thanks to how she'd been raised; she'd been told her entire life that women weren't allowed to like sex, they weren't allowed to have sex just for the sake of having sex. They were supposed to withhold it, use it to reward their spouse or give it as a gift during special occasions, nothing more. Only men were allowed to actively want sex and feel horny, women weren't supposed to be like that. If a woman enjoyed sex, she was a slut, no ifs, buts or ands about it.

 _Such an idiotic thing to believe,_ she humphed internally.

"Major," Hunnigan said, turning to face him.  
"Hmm?"

"Do you want to have sex?"

He opened one eye and looked at her silently for a long time before closing it again.

"This feels like entrapment of some kind."  
"A lesser woman would probably be offended by your obvious lack of enthusiasm," she smirked.

"Believe me, it's taking a lot of effort to remain this cool about it."  
"It's a simple yes or no-question." Hunnigan chuckled. "No strings attached, I just want to use you for your body," she added with a grin and he cleared his throat a little.

"I admit, I'm tempted, but the thing is... I'm seeing someone," he said.  
"Oh, well, in that case, nevermind," Hunnigan laughed softly.

"Sorry," he said awkwardly and Hunnigan frowned.  
"Why are you apologizing? Don't make this weird," she said and he smiled. "So, how'd you meet? What's her name?"

"Josephine. She works at the profiling unit, we met at work," he said.  
"Has she met Seeley yet?" Hunnigan asked.

"No. She knows about him and she has said she would want to meet him, but I wanted to wait to see how serious this would get... and I wanted you to meet her first. I figured if you were seeing someone and it was serious, I'd want to meet the guy to see what kind of a step-dad Seeley would have, so I wanted you to get a chance to meet her first, you know?" Major shrugged one shoulder a little and Hunnigan nodded in agreement.

"I'm really glad you've found someone," she then said, and sincerely meant it too.  
"Me too. I'm just terrified of telling Isabela about it, she might crucify me when she finds out," Major jested and Hunnigan chuckled, shaking her head a little. She knew her mother well enough to know she wouldn't blame Major.

"Nah, mom will make it my fault for letting you go in the first place, so don't worry about it," she assured him.

Seeley grumbled sleepily and sat up in his bed, looking around with his eyes barely open, needing a moment to figure out where he was when it became clear to him he wasn't in his own room back in D.C..

"Would you get him dressed and get some breakfast into him? I gotta do something about my tits," Hunnigan smirked.  
"They look fine to me," Major commented and Hunnigan rolled her eyes.

"I was drinking last night, so I'm technically full of spoiled goods," she poked her tongue out at him.  
"All right, all right," he chuckled, got out of bed and picked Seeley up. "Morning, little dude. You wanna go see if we can scrounge up something to eat?" he asked and the boy nodded, still sleepily rubbing his eyes before slipping his arms around Major's neck as he carried him out of the bedroom.

Hunnigan took out the breast pump from her bag, assembled it and got to work, the procedure a familiar routine by now but still occasionally more than just a tad boring and somewhat uncomfortable. She checked her phone, glad to see Helena had responded to her earlier message.

Hunnigan had a chance to exchange a few messages with Helena before Isabela entered the room and before even saying anything made a tiny obviously disgusted noise at the sight that greeted her.

"Really, mom?" Hunnigan scoffed at that.  
"Well, honestly, you should stop that unless you want Seeley to still be clamped to your _tetas_ when he's forty," Isabela huffed.

"I don't understand why you can't grasp the concept of me not wanting to feed anything artificial to my baby. Besides, it's good for his immune system."  
"He's two years old, not a baby."

"I've seen some people breastfeed eight year olds."  
"Well, that's just great, I'm sure it had nothing to do with the mother's need to feel herself important," Isabela scoffed sarcastically.

"What do you want, mom?" Hunnigan sighed, angry at herself for letting herself get tangled this deep into the same old argument in the first place, she'd sworn she wouldn't, but her mother had a way of getting under her skin with her disapproving scoffs and remarks, and roping her into an argument. What made it more ridiculous was the subject of the argument, there shouldn't have been anything to argue about, this wasn't something Isabela should've had a say in in the first place. But of course, that had never stopped her from giving her brutally honest opinions.

Hunnigan had tried remaining calm and reasonable with her, she'd repeatedly reminded herself of the fact that this infuriating woman who loved picking her apart was still her mother and the only mother she'd ever have, and that she should respect that. Another part of her felt like that wasn't exactly right either, it was just something she'd been raised to believe, implanted world views.

Women who liked sex were sluts. If you didn't have an impressive job title, you were a loser. If you breastfed your kid beyond one year, you were weird and doing wrong. You should always respect your elders, it didn't matter that they hadn't necessarily done anything to earn it. Coconut tasted horrible and no one should ever eat it.

The list went on and on, and Hunnigan was rather embarrassed to admit that up until a couple of years back, she'd listened. She'd always done as she'd been told, nevermind that she liked things such as coconut (something as small as that had become an argument when Isabela had in all seriousness questioned Hunnigan's mental health simply because she'd said she liked coconut), if Isabela said it was no good, it was no good, end of discussion.

It hadn't been until Hunnigan had made the decision to divorce Major that she'd stopped to think that maybe it was time she began doing things for herself, living her own life the way she wanted to live it rather than live it so that her mother approved. The trick was coming to the realization that nothing she'd ever do would be enough because even when she'd done her best to be exactly the way her mother had wanted her to be, it hadn't been enough. Her various achievements and skills weren't impressive enough, her job wasn't impressive enough; her marriage to Major had been the only thing Isabela had approved of (even though she'd felt they'd taken too long to get married), but that approval had come at a high cost for Hunnigan and also to Major. Had they not been pressured and relentlessly hounded about it, the odds were they would've had the time to realize they were never meant to be more than friends.

 _Aren't you a little too old to blame everything on mommy?_ Hunnigan asked herself internally. Maybe she was, but it didn't change the fact that her mother _had_ played an important role in pushing Hunnigan to take the paths which had led to disappointing and hurtful dead ends.

"Nothing, just came to see if you're still here or if you'd run off in the middle of the night again."

Hunnigan inhaled through her nose, held it in while counting to ten, and finally exhaled deeply. Only this time, her trusty method to cool off before saying things she would regret didn't quite work.

 _I can't do this anymore. I won't. I'm done. I'm so fucking done._


	12. Chapter 12

"Got you beat; I was a cop for a day. Literally, one day," Helena said and Leon held up a finger to silently tell her to hold on while he finished his drink.  
"No, no, I can do better. I also was a cop for one day, _but,_ first day on the job... Raccoon City. Boom, baby."

"Well, shit," Helena grumbled and took a long drink of rum as were the rules according to the drinking game Leon had come up with, neither one of them any longer remembering what the exact rules were.  
"So, what's your story?" Leon asked, knowing Helena was already aware of his as far as the Raccoon City incident went.

"First day on the job and a detective working on a string of rape-homicides brings in a suspect and the guy is being all smug about what he's accused of, making derogatory comments about women, and I could live with that, I'm used to it, shit like that happens every day, some guys like to walk around thinking they're superior when in reality they're somewhere between a chicken and a human female as far as evolution goes..." Helena began agitatedly and paused to take a long drink.

"How does that... I mean... so, wait, how...?" Leon frowned and also took a drink.  
"Three holes," Helena said, holding up three fingers to emphasize her point and Leon's eyebrows rose high.

"...I don't know what that means."

"Women have three holes; one for pissing, one for periods and babies, one for shitting. Men only have two, you cum and piss from the same hole and that is disgusting. You didn't evolve. Not to mention that the only reason your balls have to hang outside your body is because you can't even keep your stupid cum alive in normal body temperature! So, evolution-wise, does a being whose reproductive organs have to be outside their bodies and left vulnerable in order for them to remain fertile sound like the superior kind to you? Does it!" Helena ranted and Leon held up his hands in a surrendering gesture.

"Someone needs to calm down."  
"Why, because I'm 'hysterical'?" Helena scoffed.

"No, because you're making me feel bad," Leon smirked, "I wasn't given a choice regarding where my reproductive organs end up being."  
"Sorry, I didn't mean to go off on you, it's not like women are flawless either, believe me, I know that too. But you gotta admit it's typically the guys who act like they are superior when all the evidence suggests otherwise."

"I think some people are shit regardless of their gender and leave it at that," Leon chuckled, finished his drink and reached for the bottle of rum on the coffee table, fixing himself a fresh drink. Helena wasn't done with hers, but he poured more rum into her glass as well. At this point they were both drunk enough to not be able to taste the alcohol, so he didn't bother leaving room for a the mixer.

"Cheers, I'll drink to that!" Helena agreed and clinked her glass against his. "What were we talking about?" she then frowned.  
"You were telling me how you were a cop for a day."

"Oh yeah! So, there was that piece of shit, making lewd remarks about my looks, hootin' and hollerin' from the cell, and that didn't get to me, I don't give a shit most of the time. But when one of the two surviving victims came in and he pulled his dick out and started jerking off, I had to do something."

"And what did you do?" Leon asked, knowing it couldn't have been anything good, but hoping it was something even worse than what he could think of off the top of his head. Anyone disgusting enough to do what that suspect had done deserved the worst.

"I got into the cell with him and stabbed him in the crotch with a ballpoint pen. The wounds got infected and his dick and balls basically fell off as a result," Helena chuckled. "I guess it's cruel to laugh but I'm not sorry, he deserved it. I hate rapists," she then added through clenched teeth.

"For what it's worth, I approve," Leon nodded.

"Thanks, it's worth a lot. Most people wouldn't. At least not publicly because they like to think they're above all that, above the violence, above the anger, but at the end of the day, they're the ones who cause the most trouble because they bottle that shit up until one day, they end up murdering their family just because someone put the toilet paper roll in the wrong way," Helena shrugged. "I didn't get charged since there was no evidence... the security cameras happened to conveniently glitch when I allegedly stabbed the suspect," she continued and Leon scoffed.

Conveniently indeed. He would've wanted to condemn such actions from whoever had been in charge of disappearing the evidence, but in all honesty, had it been up to him and he'd been put in a position to try and save a fellow cop's career or help an unapologetic rapist/murderer end the cop's career... there was no doubt about it, he'd choose the cop's career despite knowing it isn't the right thing to do. But justice can't always be black and white.

"...but I did get fired after a very short investigation by internal affairs."  
"So, how did you go from disgraced cop to DSO agent?" Leon quirked an eyebrow and Helena smiled.

"Hunnigan must've been headhunting and on paper, I am golden... unless you read to the very end where they discuss my less than sunny disposition. Then that thing with Deborah's piece of shit boyfriend happened, and my transfer was canceled."  
"What did happen?"

"He beat her, I shot his ear off. He sued, jury deadlocked... and before I knew it, I was being shipped off to Secret Service. It didn't make sense to me at the time, but I wasn't about to argue over it, it was a good thing I'd have a job at all considering my various indiscretions. Little did I know it was because Simmons had made it happen so he could use me for his own goals. I guess me shooting that jerk's ear off showed Simmons just how far I'd go to protect Deborah and he saw his opportunity," Helena grumbled.

"Well, hey. You're here now, that's what matters."  
"Hah, tell that to agents like Skylark who think I'm fucking people to keep my job," Helena scoffed and Leon laughed hard.

"Fucking who, the agency's out and proud gay director?" he chuckled into his glass as he took a drink and Helena shrugged, not commenting. Leon didn't ask again and instead turned their attention back to their drinking game.

"The most embarrassing thing you've done. Beat this: I thought Claire was seeing this Neil-guy, and I got jealous, got drunk, went to her apartment building and started screaming under her window 'Claire, don't fuck him, you don't have to fuck me either, but just don't fuck him'. She heard it. As did the whole building and probably the building on the other side of the street too," Leon said and Helena smirked victoriously.

"Got you beat, I drank Hunnigan's breast milk."  
"Oh, come on!" Leon spat in the middle of taking a drink from his glass, the rum spraying from his mouth and flowing over the edge of the glass as he did, and Helena nodded to confirm.

"I did."  
"What, like straight from the source?" he asked, a slightly lewd grin tugging the corner of his mouth as he thought about it.

"No," Helena scoffed, rolling her eyes.  
"There are Japanese men who pay good money to do that, don't mock it," Leon commented and Helena quirked an eyebrow.

"I don't want to know why you are so knowledgeable regarding Japanese men's consumption of breast milk," Helena said and explained to him what had happened the other day.  
"Okay, you win everything, because there is nothing I can think of that would beat drinking Hunnigan's breast milk," Leon gave up, not elaborating what it was Helena won exactly because at this point neither of them really knew.

"Please, there was just a splash of it in my coffee, when you word it like that it sounds like I was chugging the stuff," Helena sighed.  
"I prefer my interpretation of it better," Leon smiled sweetly and theatrically tilted his head back closing his eyes as he exaggerated imagining it.

"You're one sick puppy, agent Kennedy."  
"What can I say, I have mommy issues," he smirked and Helena snorted.

"Got you beat."  
"How so?" he frowned.

"Nevermind, I don't wanna get into it," Helena shook her head. "Wanna see something cool?" she then changed the subject. Leon nodded and Helena went to grab her laptop.  
"But if it's that video of the two girls with the cup, then don't, I've already seen it and the novelty has worn off," he then said and Helena grimaced.

"I asked if you wanted to see something cool, and that's what you think I'd label as cool? What is wrong with you?" she asked and Leon shrugged one shoulder. When she opened the laptop's lip and accidentally hit space while doing that, the video she'd been looking at earlier continued playing.

"... _and this is all really simple, you just need to practice it on one string and expand from there, add a little speed and voilá. It's just tap, pick, pull; the way it sounds when played makes it seem harder than it is, but trust me, it's one of the easiest things you can learn. So, learn it and blow the minds of everyone who thinks these are ultra-complicated riffs_."

"Is that Hunnigan?" Leon frowned and leaned over to look at the screen, and Helena laughed awkwardly.  
"Yes, and it's not what I meant to show you, so ignore this."

"I didn't know she had a channel."  
"She doesn't, this is her brother's, she's just a featuring artist," Helena said, realizing only after she'd said it how much of a stalker she sounded like, going through someone's brother's channel looking for content featuring them. Fortunately for her, Leon didn't notice it or decided not to comment on that.

"I don't think I've seen Hunnigan with her hair open ever before now," Leon mused instead and took a long moment to seriously think about it.  
"So, you wanna see the cool thing I meant to show you?" Helena tried to change the subject.

"No, I'd rather see Hunnigan play 'Classical gas'," Leon said and pointed at the thumbnail on the sidebar.  
"Well, it is cooler than the meme-compilation I was about to show," Helena agreed and clicked on the video.

" _I won't fuck up this time,"_ Hunnigan laughed to the man who looked like a male-version of her, with short dark brown hair, a thin handlebar moustache, olive skin, and the same shape blue-gray eyes as Hunnigan's; obviously that was her brother Nolan.  
 _"Yeah, don't fuck up,"_ he laughed too and Hunnigan began playing the song, making it look deceptively easy, her fingers nimbly picking at the strings, the other hand's digits effortlessly flowing back and forth on the fretboard.

* * *

Hunnigan's original plan had been to stay in New York for one more day and come back to D.C. and get to work on the 27th, but the heated discussion she'd gotten into with her mother had made her more than happy to leave a day earlier. Frankly, it hadn't been much of a discussion, just an exchange of a few but extremely painful words.

 _"You're a tall disappointment!"  
"Of course I am because nothing I do is enough for you! I'll have you know I have accomplished a lot, but seeing as my life choices offend you so much, maybe it's better we just stay away from each other for good." _

When she'd informed her father that she'd be leaving, he'd simply sighed deeply and grumbled something about not blaming her for choosing to do so. When Hunnigan had been a teenager, he'd tried brokering peace between her and Isabela, but it was losing battle, one he'd never been equipped to handle in the first place, so he'd done the next best thing he could think of; stay out of their way and pick up the pieces afterward. Only, it was becoming evident that the pieces would no longer fit together after all the breaking.

Hunnigan glanced into the rearview mirror out of habit and sighed a little, only then recalling it was empty; Seeley would be spending the following week with Major, possibly meeting Josephine after Hunnigan had told Major she didn't mind if he introduced Seeley to her despite Hunnigan not having met the woman prior. Frankly, Hunnigan wasn't worried she'd be an unpleasant person, she didn't think Major would be interested in a woman who was; she was more worried Josephine would turn out to be the fun step-mother Seeley would absolutely fall in love with. Hunnigan found herself genuinely dreading Seeley would prefer Josephine over her.

It was an irrational fear at this point, but from where Hunnigan was looking at it, it wasn't an unreasonable fear. She knew she hadn't been home with Seeley as much as she should've, and it wasn't something she took lightly. Seeley himself had muttered something along the lines of "your work's stupid" when she'd told him she'd be away for a couple of days for work when she'd gone to take part in the team spirit building-day. It didn't help that her "away mission" had gotten extended because of the snow storm.

Hunnigan interpreted Seeley's obvious resentment of her work as a symptom of him knowing this evil thing known as "work" was what kept his mother from him most of the day, and sometimes she brought work home, meaning that at times her son was stuck fighting for her attention (often by climbing all over her, occasionally by throwing his toys at her when he got frustrated enough) even at home. It didn't matter to a two year old (well, almost three) that if his mother didn't bring work home sometimes, people would be upset because they would have to wait an extra hour for a report they wouldn't even read properly. Hunnigan doubted there was a way to explain it to him in a way he'd understand why it mattered, sometimes she wasn't sure she understood it herself either.

 _I wonder how long it would take for people to notice if I just stopped sending in the reports,_ Hunnigan scoffed internally. Shepard would notice, eventually. Hunnigan certainly hoped he would because if he wouldn't, there were bigger problems at the agency than budgeting.

Hunnigan sighed deeply and pulled to a stop at traffic lights. She'd be driving for at least another hour before getting back to D.C. and as much as she did generally enjoy driving, it was getting boring. There was nothing good on the radio and she'd already listened through the songs in the USB-thumbstick she'd connected to the stereo. Frankly, she'd need to update the library of songs soon, there were so few she didn't feel like just skipping.

 _I could use someone to talk to,_ she mused as the light turned green, and an idea came to her.

"Call Helena Harper," Hunnigan ordered her phone after tapping the earpiece to activate it. The line rang for a while before a male voice answered.

"A-hoy-hoy."  
"...Leon?" Hunnigan frowned.

"The one and only, what can I do for you?" he chuckled.  
"Nothing, I must've gotten the wrong number, I meant to call Helena."

"Oh, no, it's the right number, I just picked her phone up. Did you know you're listed as just 'Hunnigan' on her phone? That's so impersonal. You're 'Hunny-Bunny' in my phone," Leon chatted, and she sincerely hoped he was joking, but knew he probably wasn't.  
"Why are you picking up Helena's phone?" Hunnigan asked.

"Because she's a lightweight and passed out, and I stayed over because I haven't finished my drink, but I'll head out once I am done with it. Want me to wake her up?"  
"No, no, let her sleep, I'll call her later."

"All right."  
"Bye, Leon," she said and ended the call.

 _Well, at least she's okay,_ Hunnigan thought. _If you consider getting blackout drunk with Leon "okay", that is._


	13. Chapter 13

Hunnigan lay on the couch and exhaled deeply through her nose. It was quiet in the apartment, the clock's usually unnoticeable ticking amplified by the lack of sounds from elsewhere; even the hum of the traffic had faded out. She'd gotten started on dinner, namely, ordered a pizza, and decided to lay down and maybe watch something while waiting for it to arrive, but then the silence had overwhelmed her, and she'd stopped to just listen to it.

With the silence had come the odd feeling of... something she couldn't define. It wasn't actual depression nor was it sadness, not really apathy either, just... a weird concoction of all of those things, rendering her bored. It wasn't like she couldn't think of anything to do, on the contrary; she could've read a book, played video games, caught up on the shows she'd been meaning to watch but hadn't had the time. Hell, she could've gotten drunk and just sat at her computer listening to music, she wouldn't need to worry about breastfeeding Seeley the day after. But she didn't feel like doing any of those things.

 _Why am I so sad?_ she asked herself internally, sighing deeply again.

The argument with her mother was weighing her down, that was an obvious one, but it wasn't all of it. She wished it had been that simple.

 _Everything's the same. That's the problem, nothing's changed, I want something to be different, but making a difference is kind of scary and feels overwhelming. And now I'm pre-emptively stressing out over change I haven't even initiated yet. I wonder if anyone else gets like this,_ she scoffed to herself, got up and went to answer the door when there was a knock. She paid for the pizza (giving a generous tip for the speedy delivery) and headed back to the living room to eat.

She'd managed to find something to watch while eating and gotten one slice down when her phone rang. She humphed, wiped her hands and answered the call.

"Hey!" she greeted Helena.  
"Hi. Leon mentioned you called earlier, so I figured I'd call you back."

"I didn't have anything important, I just wanted to check in on you and chat," Hunnigan said, folded up another slice and bit into it.  
"Well, I just woke up and I've gone from happily drunk to kind of hungover... and I think I might be getting sick," Helena grumbled.

"Oh, no, do you have any cold medicine?"  
"Nah. I'll live. I think," Helena laughed and yawned. "So, how's things over there?"

"Uhm, well, over here. I drove back today after I got into a fight with my mom," Hunnigan chuckled awkwardly. Saying she'd ran from home after fighting with her mom felt like such a dumb thing to say at her age.  
"Wanna talk about it?" Helena asked. Hunnigan finished chewing and took a sip of cola before leaning to lay back down on the couch, not caring that her pizza would undoubtedly get cold.

"She called me a tall disappointment, which isn't really anything new," she laughed ruefully.  
"Well, your mom sounds like a delight," Helena said sarcastically, "I don't get why anyone would ever say that to their kid. I mean, unless the kid's turned out to be a murderer or something worse, then I'd get it, but you certainly haven't done anything to deserve remarks like that."

"Doesn't matter. Sure, I'd prefer if it weren't like this, but it's nothing new. Last time I left like that was a teenager. Nolan and I had rented an apartment here after we got accepted in the same university."  
"You guys went to the same school and lived together? I don't think I could've done that with Deborah. I mean, I love her dearly, but she would've driven me insane if I'd had to share an apartment with her," Helena laughed and Hunnigan smiled.

"I studied computers, he studied music, so it's not like we had to share a lot of classes. And, well, I do like hanging out with him."  
"Wait, I thought you said he's your little brother, how did you attend school at the same time?" Helena then asked.

"Well, technically, he is my little brother, I'm about half an hour older, he was very reluctant to come out into the world."  
"Oh, you're twins! You could've just said that," Helena said and Hunnigan could practically hear her smirk.

"I prefer saying he's my baby brother, I feel like that gives me more of an excuse to be so protective over him."  
"So, why did you get into a fight with your mother when you two moved out to go to school?" Helena inquired. Hunnigan switched to the earpiece and put the phone on the coffee table before turning to lay on her side on the couch, hugging one of the decorative pillows against her chest.

"I kept some stuff in my parents' storage unit and I'd told mom I'd clear it out before moving, and I was doing it, but she kept bitching at me how lazy I am for not doing it, all while I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do," Hunnigan began explaining the ridiculous argument. "I'd driven back and forth between D.C. and New York for a couple of days, and I go back for one more trip, and mom's there, again telling me it wasn't done like she thinks I should've done it, so I just lost it and started screaming at her. Like, it was ugly. Literally, I was ugly-crying and screaming. You ever get so angry you just... scream and cry?"

"Yeah, I have some idea what it's like to get ridiculously angry," Helena laughed softly.  
"Right," Hunnigan scoffed amusedly. "Well, seeing how much she'd managed to upset me did nothing to deter her from going at me, so I ended up looking like the crazy one who was overreacting."

"Yeah, I had you pegged for one of those people who avoid confrontation until you just explode and everyone thinks you lost your mind because they're not used to you showing such emotions."  
"Exactly. I'm guessing you don't have that problem."

"Not at all, I'm very quick with my fury," Helena chuckled.  
"I like that about you."

"What!" Helena exclaimed before bursting out laughing.  
"I do. It's very honest. Plus, I know immediately if I've upset you. With me, you'd have to keep upsetting me for days before you'd know," Hunnigan said with a smile.

"Maybe, but at least you stop and think things through before doing stupid shit because you're angry," Helena commented and took a deep breath to cough for a moment. When she could breathe normally again, she cleared her throat agitatedly.  
"Augh, I hate this crap, my throat is killing me."

"Maybe you shouldn't talk."  
"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Helena asked.

"No! I just don't want you to lose your voice."  
"I don't mind losing it talking to you. I like our talks."

"I like them too," Hunnigan said softly. That said, she couldn't think of anything more to talk about. She didn't want to dwell on what had happened with Isabela and she definitely didn't want to keep whining about it to Helena. She felt her stomach grumble and glanced at the pizza still waiting for her on the table.

"Do you have anything to eat?" she asked Helena.  
"Um... I don't know, maybe. Probably not."

"Wanna share the rest of my pizza with me? I was really hungry and I ordered an extra large one, but I already know I won't be able to finish it."  
"I would love to, but I'm in no condition to drive."

"I could come over?"  
"My place is a mess."

"Okay," Hunnigan said, deciding to drop it; it was beginning to sound like Helena was running out of excuses to not see her.  
"And I don't want you to have to drive back and forth," Helena then added awkwardly and Hunnigan frowned. Was that her way of saying she wanted her to pick Helena up?

"I've been driving a lot recently, so another trip back and forth wouldn't be a problem, especially since it's not like a four hour drive," she chuckled. "So, if you want me to pick you up, just say the word, because I'd be happy to do it."  
"...I would love that."

"Great! I'll be right over," Hunnigan smiled and got up, the apathy-like feeling subsiding as she rather felt excited to spend time with Helena.

* * *

Helena could barely taste the pizza now that her nose was beginning to get blocked by the nasty flu which had already torn her throat raw, that was how it felt like at least. She kept coughing and clearing her throat, but the tickle remained and nothing came out, the dry cough becoming more painful than annoying which was what it had been up until she'd fallen asleep. Despite not being able to properly taste the pizza, she did devour four slices of it, growing hungrier with every bite she'd taken of the first slice.

"Oh, man. I shouldn't have eaten so much but... I regret nothing," Helena groaned and Hunnigan laughed.  
"Good!"

"Thanks for having me over. And for the pizza."  
"Don't worry about it, I'm glad to have the company."

"I really don't wanna wear out my welcome. Or get you sick too with all this coughing," Helena then trailed off awkwardly.  
"Don't worry about that either, you're welcome to stay over if you want."

"I don't want to be a bother, you've already looked after me more than you should've needed to."  
"I like looking after you. Speaking of, here, drink this," Hunnigan said and took a seat next to Helena on the couch and handed her a mug, steam rising from it.

"What is it?" Helena frowned and peered into the mug.  
"Ginger tea with some honey and lemon in it. It'll make you feel better."

"Why are you so nice to me?" Helena narrowed her eyes and took a sip of the tea. Hunnigan laughed heartily and moved to sit cross-legged, tucking her feet underneath her calves to keep them warm.  
"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked back, leaning against the arm rest. Helena swallowed the tea and shrugged one shoulder.

"I don't know, I'm not used to people giving two shits about me, so I don't know how to be when someone takes care of me."  
"Well, how about you just try to relax and enjoy it?" Hunnigan suggested.

"That's just it," Helena shook her head, "I can't do that. I don't know how, and I feel like I'm bothering you."  
"You're not. Frankly, you're doing me a favor because I don't know how to be without having someone to look after, and now that Seeley's with his father, I don't know what to do with all my free time. It gets really quiet and lonely," Hunnigan explained.

"So, what did you do before Seeley was born?" Helena quirked an eyebrow.  
"Well, there was Major. And Leon, babysitting him counts as a full-time job at times. Then there was my brother who'd get in trouble and needed looking after."

"What did he do?" Helena asked and sipped the tea. Hunnigan shifted somewhat uncomfortably on the couch as she considered what to say about it.  
"He's... the sensitive type who used to think he can't make it through life without some crutches. Long story short, I've put him through rehab three times."

"Oh. Poor boy," Helena said and Hunnigan's eyebrows rose at that. "What? I'm a sympathetic person, no need to look so surprised!"  
"Sorry, but you did surprise me," Hunnigan laughed softly.

"Well, I get it tho."  
"Anyway... my point is, taking care of others is what I do best, so I don't mind."

"Who takes care of you?"  
"I do. You know the saying, there are flowers and there are gardeners. I'm a gardener," Hunnigan shrugged.

"Yay, I get to be a flower," Helena batted her eyelashes and Hunnigan snorted.

The conversation wound down as they both turned their attention to the _Futurama_ -marathon on TV, and after a while, Hunnigan noticed Helena had drifted off to sleep. She switched the TV off, retrieved an extra blanket from the closet and draped it over Helena.

"Sleep well," she smiled, turned the lights out and went to the bedroom. It was barely nine thirty in the evening, a little too early for Hunnigan to get to sleep, but she figured she might as well go to bed too.

 _What to do,_ she mused internally before deciding to continue reading the book she'd left open on the nightstand. _Or I could just masturbate, that was the original plan,_ she then thought, her movement to reach for the book interrupted before she picked it up, and instead settled to lay back down on the bed.

She rarely had a chance to masturbate because when Seeley was at home, he had the tendency to enter rooms without announcing himself and if she locked the door, he very loudly made it clear he didn't approve of such action. Doing it before going to sleep was something she'd attempted often, but considering her work days could easily stretch out to be twelve hours long and exhausting, she almost always fell asleep after barely getting started. Rushing through it while Seeley was in his room taking a nap wasn't ideal either because she knew herself and she knew she'd need at least and hour of peace and quiet, and she wouldn't have that, she'd be too paranoid listening for signs of Seeley waking up to be able to clear her mind and truly enjoy herself. Not to mention the risk of him walking in on her was too much.

It was bad enough he'd gone digging in her drawers and he'd discovered her Ben Wa balls and she'd had to come up with something to tell him when he'd asked what they were (she'd felt rather proud of having quickly come up with a little white lie as she'd told him they were Christmas tree decorations, but she'd grown to regret it when he'd insisted hanging them on the tree this year), she certainly wouldn't want to deal with the questions he'd have if he walked in on her masturbating.

 _Besides, I don't even have anything to think about during,_ she then sighed internally. She knew it was utterly ridiculous, but she didn't feel comfortable thinking about Major while touching herself, not when she knew he was seeing someone else. She doubted he'd care if he knew, on the contrary, he'd probably be smug about it. Then again, she admitted, he had earned the right to be smug, he knew how to manipulate her body until she was shaking at the heights of ecstasy.

 _No, not going there,_ she scoffed internally at herself, but her right hand happily ignored it, already resting on her abdomen, stroking her skin. _Not to mention Helena's here, I don't want her to walk in on me either._ _That said... I do wonder what she... okay, no, stop it,_ she blew out a breath.

But she did wonder what it would feel like. What her chest pressed to Helena's would feel like; she hadn't felt another woman's breasts against her own before. She wondered what Helena's breath would taste like, how would her hands feel on Hunnigan's skin, what it would be like to kiss her. She looked like a good kisser, which was something Hunnigan couldn't say about her ex-husband. For all the praise she was willing to give, this was something he'd been terrible at. His idea of kissing was to pucker his lips and just sort of peck at hers, it was very awkward most of the time.

Hunnigan turned to lay on her stomach, her right arm tucked between her hips and the mattress, she moved her hand between her legs, placing her fingers on her pussy and gently massaging the flesh. She already had some idea of what Helena's skin against her own would feel like, she'd gotten a decent preview during that night they'd spent in the sleeping bag together. And if she was honest about it, she did have to admit she'd been on the verge of kissing Helena the morning after when they'd been in the middle of that silly staring competition she'd challenged Helena to.

Hunnigan didn't think she would've gone through with it and acted on the thought had Shepard not interrupted them when he had, but she'd seriously considered just pressing her lips onto Helena's. She hadn't thought back on it, not really, but now... it was an exciting thought.

 _Oh, what the hell,_ she mentally shrugged and gave into the fantasy.


	14. Chapter 14

Helena woke up slowly, her head, chest and back aching, the need to cough tickling in the back of her throat. She held her breath, fighting the cough and managed to suppress it.

 _An unfamiliar ceiling,_ she mused as she stared at it. Turning to look to the side, she realized she wasn't alone and she wasn't on the couch where she recalled falling asleep at.

 _Why am I in her bed?_ she wondered silently, continuing to wonder how she'd gotten here. Had Hunnigan carried her here? Seemed unlikely. She was fit, but Helena knew herself to weigh a lot more than what one might guess based on just looking at her; she was solidly built and mostly muscle (despite the recent weight gain), she doubted Hunnigan would've had the strength to carry her, at least not without waking her.

 _She's so beautiful,_ Helena sighed internally as she shamelessly stared at Hunnigan who lay on her back, left arm raised, her hand tucked underneath her head, the other resting over her abdomen.

 _Don't you want to feel her skin?_ Sergeant Good's voice whispered and Helena wanted to punch herself over hearing that.

 _You want to think yourself so much above me, but you're the same. The only difference is you haven't learned how to drown out that annoying little voice inside you that tells you to stop when you think of doing something you really want to do. You should try ignoring it sometime. Who knows, things might end better for you._

Helena scoffed quietly. She hated Good's voice, but as much as she despised it, she knew it wasn't Good. It was her own voice, her own thoughts and feelings she'd masked and named after her abuser because that made it easier to accept. Owning up to some of the things she found Good's voice telling her would've meant owning up to her own depravity.

 _That's it, isn't it? If you stop blaming it on me, you have to accept all this filth oozes from your very own core._

"Core which you ruined to begin with," Helena mumbled under her breath. Hunnigan inhaled deeply and turned to lay on her side, still asleep.

 _It was rotten long before I got my hands on it. Maybe if you'd done things my way, you wouldn't be here right now. You remember how desperate you were to kill Deborah's shitty ex-boyfriend, you wanted him dead so badly it was all you could think of the days leading up to the moment you caught him at his apartment when he came back in town._

 _"_ So what, anyone in my shoes would've wanted a guy like that dead," Helena hissed to herself.

 _Yeah, but not everyone would've gotten obsessed with killing him like you did, and the only reason you failed was because the lucky bastard moved an inch just as you pulled the trigger. You were going to kill him, but you only got the chance to shoot his ear off. If he'd died, you would've gone to jail for murder and maybe Deborah would be alive because you wouldn't have drawn Simmons's attention to yourself. But shooting a guy's ear off? Piece of cake for someone like Simmons to ensure you'd walk away from that and serve him and his goals afterward. That's the kind of a woman you are, Harper. You have wants and urges normal people don't understand or approve of, so you tell yourself to stop, to not go through with it. It's working for now, but sooner or later you won't be able to stop. And that's when the real you emerges. And that's when you realize the only thing separating you from me is the label of your crime._

"Hey."  
"Hunnigan," Helena gasped, startled, expecting Hunnigan to have somehow heard her (mostly) inner dialogue while logically she knew it wasn't possible.

"I'm here. Are you okay? You look... a little... off?"  
"Yeah, I just... your bed is so hard, how do you sleep on this thing?" Helena said, avoiding the question.

"Mmm, it's good for the back, trust me," Hunnigan laughed.  
"How did I get here?" Helena asked.

"You had a fever of one-oh-three and you were a bit delirious and sleepy... and in a strange place, so you took a wrong turn looking for the bathroom."  
"Please don't tell me I pissed on the floor, because if I did, I might have to seriously kill myself because of the shame."

"Nothing like that, I got you turned around and when you were done, you came to sleep here instead of going back to the couch, nothing more dramatic than that about it," Hunnigan smiled. Helena tried to respond, but her breath and words were taken over by a violent cough. Her breath sounded like small rocks being ground somewhere deep in her chest.

"That doesn't sound good," Hunnigan commented as she sat up.

"Feels worse," Helena managed. Hunnigan reached to press her palm over Helena's forehead and Helena quirked an eyebrow at that. She had to admit it felt incredibly nice to have someone take care of her, but the feeling didn't last long before being shoved aside.

 _You don't have the right. You have no right! You don't deserve this! How dare you? After everything she's already done for you, she's having to look after you just because you have a little cold? Grow up, you whiny brat!_ her grandmother's voice was eager to remind her.

"I think you might still be running a fever. I'll go get the thermometer," Hunnigan said, completely oblivious to Helena's internal struggle.  
"Please don't if it's the kind that goes up the butt, because that's exit only," Helena called out after her.

 _Liar,_ Sergeant Good whispered.

"Well, that would give more accurate readings but I think we'll both be more comfortable if we just settle for this," Hunnigan laughed and before Helena even realized what was happening, she'd returned with the digital ear thermometer, tugged on Helena's ear gently to straighten the ear canal and taken her temperature.

"Hundred and three still! That's not good!" she said after reading the result.  
"It's fine, I'm fine, I just need to take it easy for a while, I'll be good as new in no time," Helena assured.

"Why are you so adamant? This is serious."  
"Look, I'm okay, I just... I just need to go home and get to bed."

"Go home? Okay, you know what? Fine," Hunnigan sighed in exasperation.

 _Aw, now she's mad at you. Imagine how unbearable a person you must be if Ingrid Hunnigan loses her temper with you, she's got the patience of a saint, but you manage to get on her nerves too. Why are you even here? You shouldn't have come here and bother her to begin with. Pathetic._

"I just don't understand you right now, because one minute you tell me you like hanging out with me, and the next you can't wait to get away from me, what is going on with you?" Hunnigan asked and went to take a seat next to Helena on the bed.

 _Oh, even better, now you've made her doubt herself, and hurt her feelings. You ruin everything, you don't deserve her friendship. You're barely tolerable and you've already made her feel bad, again. You fucking stupid bitch._

"It's not you, you haven't done anything, it's... I just don't want to bother you, I don't want to be a burden," Helena muttered.  
"I already told you, you're not bothering me and you're definitely not a burden, I want to take care of you," Hunnigan reasoned and Helena sighed deeply, her breath followed by a cough emanating deep from her chest.

"Come here, lie down, facing the floor," Hunnigan said and patted her thighs and Helena quirked an eyebrow.  
"You want me to lie in your lap?"

"Trust me," Hunnigan smiled. Helena did as she was told, trying to ignore the awkward feeling brewing inside her over the fact that she was sprawled over Hunnigan's lap.  
"I don't know if this actually does anything, but my grandma used to do this to me when I was sick, she said it loosens up the mucus in your lungs so it's easier to cough out," Hunnigan chuckled as she began to do gentle karate chops over Helena's back.

"Well, who am I to argue with that logic," Helena said, her voice vibrating to the rhythm of the chops.

* * *

Helena spent most of the day drifting in and out of sleep, she barely made sense of Hunnigan's words when she informed Helena she'd be going to work for a while, but Helena should call her if she needed something. She was half asleep on the couch and woke up to the familiar sound of her phone ringing, but she didn't register it at first, imagining the sound came from somewhere else. When she finally came to, she groaned, thumbed the answer-key and raised the phone to her ear, grumbling something as a greeting.

"Helena Harper?" a male voice on the other end of the call inquired.  
"Yeah. What?"

"My name is Colin Rutherford, I'm a prosecutor working on a case against Kassandra Good, I was informed that you were one of the privates she trained during-"  
"What do you want?" Helena interrupted impatiently, already having an idea of what it was he had on his mind, and already wanting nothing to do with it.

"I want to know if you would be willing to testify against her."  
"What makes you think there's anything to testify about?"

"Her statement, in which she specifically named you by denying she ever committed a crime against you, I guess she assumed you were the one bringing up the charges. I need your help to put her away."  
"Well, seeing as I'm obviously not the victim responsible for bringing this to you, let the one who did testify!" Helena snapped agitatedly and was about to hang up when Rutherford spoke again.

"He's dead, and his testimony alone won't do it, you know that. I need a prior bad acts-witness or she walks."  
"You manipulative cunt, what right do you have to put this on my conscience!" Helena yelled and sat up furiously, her phone making a quiet creaking noise under the pressure of her grip tightening around it.

"Because with your testimony about her prior bad acts I've got a shot at winning this, and the fact that she specifically named you leads me to believe you have knowledge of the worst of her bad acts. I don't like pinning this on you anymore than you like hearing it, but I have to because I want to see her put away for what she did. Don't you?"

"Don't ever call me again," Helena growled and hung up.

"Scam caller?" Hunnigan's amused voice inquired from the doorway and Helena jumped a little, she hadn't heard her come in.  
"Y-yeah..." Helena mumbled and put the phone down. Hunnigan paused as she was walking past the back of the couch and reached to put her hand over Helena's forehead. Without a second thought, Helena found herself instinctively leaning into the gentle touch.

"I think your fever's gone down a little," Hunnigan commented and Helena almost fell forward when she moved her hand away and continued to make her way to the kitchen with the groceries.  
"Yeah, I do feel a little better," Helena sighed.

"That's good. Not that I mind looking after you, but you know what I mean," Hunnigan said as she unpacked the items and put them away.

 _Oh, don't mind her sugar coating it, you know what she means, don't you? She wants you out. You've overstayed your welcome, little darling, you've done nothing to deserve this much caretaking, you never should've stayed,_ Helena's grandmother's voice told her.

"I really should be heading home," she muttered, reluctant to actually make it happen.

"At least stay for dinner, I have a feeling you haven't eaten anything in over twenty-four hours," Hunnigan called out from the kitchen, and Helena smiled. "And I bet you're dehydrated too," Hunnigan added when she came into the living room and placed a cold water bottle in Helena's hand.

"You really don't need to do all this."  
"I know, but I want to because you're my friend and I care about you, like I've said before."

"I know you've said it before, I just... have a hard time accepting that someone would care about me, and I don't know what to say or do in a situation like this," Helena muttered. Hunnigan leaned to the backrest of the couch and turned her head to be able to look at Helena. For a while, she thought Hunnigan was gonna kiss her because she got so close, and Helena found herself already leaning in a little closer before coming to her senses.

"Well, you could try saying 'thanks, Ingrid' and drinking your water while I make us something to eat," Hunnigan smiled before standing up straight and turning to go into the kitchen.  
"I don't think I can do that."

"Why not?"  
"Because calling you Ingrid feels completely unnatural to me," Helena said and Hunnigan laughed.


	15. Chapter 15

Helena blew out a breath and ran her hand over her face. Paperwork was a pain in the ass, definitely not what she'd seen herself doing as a DSO agent. Granted, assuming that working for the DSO didn't involve paperwork was something she'd assumed due to her own childish ignorance; the reality was it didn't matter what kind of a super secret agent you were, paperwork was always going to be involved.

"Knock knock," agent Jeri Hawke said from the door and Helena turned to look up.  
"Hey. What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to see if this... office, and I use the term loosely, actually exists, I thought it was an urban legend," Hawke said as she looked around in exaggerated awe.

"Oh, it is real, and it is the best. No windows, barely any cell phone reception or Wi-Fi since we're so deep underground, my mail almost never gets delivered... it's a treat," Helena listed, grinning sarcastically and Hawke scoffed, pulling out a stack of envelopes from behind her back.

"And that's what I actually came over about, apparently the person delivering the mail can't tell the difference between Hawke and Harper," she said and handed the mail addressed to Helena to her.

"Thanks."  
"No problem," Hawke smiled, turned to leave but paused at the door once more before stepping out. "Hey, Harper?"

"Yeah?" Helena raised her gaze from the mail she'd began sorting through.  
"Would you have dinner with me?"

"Why?" Helena frowned and Hawke laughed.  
"Well, I tend to get hungry at least four times a day and when I do, I like to eat, and sometimes it's nice to eat with another person.

"I meant why me," Helena elaborated with a wry chuckle.  
"Why not?" Hawke shrugged one shoulder. "You're tough. Hot. Exactly my type," she added with a grin and Helena scoffed amusedly.

"You know what? Yes. Let's do that. My shift ends at five."  
"Same. I'll come pick you up from here, I'd call you but I'm not sure your phone works in this bunker."

"It doesn't," Helena laughed.  
"All right then. I'll see you in a few hours," Hawke smiled and left.

Helena put her mail aside and went to finish her paperwork, Hunnigan would want the field agents' reports back early so she would be able to use the information in them to compile her own reports before being off-duty again for New Year's.

Helena didn't even realize the time passing as she got into her flow and typed up the rest of her report about the incident she'd been called to check out earlier today. Fortunately, it had turned out to be nothing more serious than a very convincing cosplayer, but he'd had a lot of questions regarding why a government agent would respond to a call about him, zombies weren't supposed to be real. As far as the public was concerned, the outbreaks were about rabies, mad cow disease, drug induced psychosis... the list went on for whatever was most convenient at the time.

Helena wasn't sure if she should be impressed at the fabrication or appalled by how easy it was to convince people that the people online screaming about zombies were crazy conspiracy theorists. That said, if she didn't know better, she didn't think she'd believe it either. Rabies or some new kind of fucked up drug causing the incidents was easier to accept than the truth, which was that countless people all over the world went missing every day and were probably used as test subjects by companies like Umbrella that made viruses for friends and foes alike as long as they had the money to pay for the product.

Countless people were killed, presumed dead, their bodies discarded, sometimes carelessly so, meaning they occasionally came back, and that's when the risk of an outbreak became a possibility. That's when agents like Helena were sent to investigate and determine whether action needed to be taken.

"You ready to go?" Hawke's voice woke Helena from her thoughts, and she looked up, then at her wristwatch.  
"It's five already?"

"Actually, I'm twenty minutes late, so, past five," Hawke chuckled sheepishly.  
"Okay, let me just email this report to Hunnigan, annnd... there, we're good to go," Helena said, clicked on "send" and gathered her things before shutting down the laptop and heading out with Hawke.

* * *

"Are you nervous?" Hawke asked when they were seated at the restaurant and waited for their appetizers.  
"Should I be?" Helena quirked an eyebrow.

"I don't know. I'd rather you weren't, but then again, I wouldn't wanna be the only one who is."  
"Why are you nervous?"

"Well, I mean, first dates are notoriously nerve-ra-" Hawke's sentence got interrupted by Helena, who inhaled the wine she'd been taking a sip of.  
"Date?" she coughed into the glass and Hawke frowned deeply, her lips curving into an awkward smile.

"Uh, yeah? What else did you think I meant when I asked you to have dinner with me, and then called you hot and my type?" she chuckled.  
"I thought you were joking," Helena said.

"I... was not," Hawke muttered.

 _You with a woman? Don't make me laugh, you can't even make a bed properly let alone lie in it with someone,_ Sergeant Good mocked in Helena's mind, and she sighed deeply.

 _I'm not listening,_ she thought agitatedly.

"Sorry, I didn't... you know what, I don't get how I didn't see it," Helena said.  
"So, this means my nervous breakdown over asking you out was for nothing," Hawke joked.

"I find it hard to believe you had a nervous breakdown over me, you're not the type who lacks confidence," Helena pointed out and Hawke pursed her lips and tilted her head a little.  
"Yeaaah, you have a point," she laughed.

The waiter came to take their orders while his colleague refilled their wine glasses. Once they were left alone again, Helena inhaled deeply and tried to think of something to say. It was becoming increasingly difficult now that she was thinking of this as a date.

"So... are you... close to your family?"  
"As close as I can be considering. My mother and my sister live in London. My uncle lives here, and he agreed to take me in when I wanted to move to the US when I was eighteen. Got my green card, joined the navy, and boom, ten years later, here I am."

"What did you do in the navy?"

"I was in the law enforcement and security, a master at arms, but that career wasn't exactly going anywhere until I got my citizenship. When I got that and my security clearance, I was recruited into the DSO practically the moment my documents were handed to me," Hawke smiled.

"Let me guess, Hunnigan recruited you?" Helena asked, remembering rather fondly her first interview with Hunnigan. If she was honest, she'd spent an inappropriate amount of time staring at Hunnigan's legs and biting her tongue to keep herself from saying the dumbest thing imaginable -namely, ask her if her legs went all the way up. That phrase didn't make sense when used in the appropriate setting, it certainly would've gotten her ass thrown to the curb from the DSO.

 _I'm sure it would've gone down in history as the shortest DSO career,_ Helena mused, not that her career had even had a chance to start then before her transfer had been cancelled.  
"Yeah, she's efficient as hell," Hawke nodded. "I'm convinced she was stalking me," she then added jokingly, and Helena laughed.

"Well, no offense, but I do think she has better things to do."  
"Don't you sit there stopping me from flattering myself," Hawke smirked.

"Too late," Helena scoffed amusedly. "So... do you have any pets?" she asked then to keep the conversation going, unsure what to talk about, and more than glad that Hawke hadn't asked her about her family, that was a mess she didn't feel like getting into.

"Yes, a dog. His name is Grunt," Hawke said, dug out her phone and turned to show a picture of a large, completely black Cane Corso.  
"That's a dog? I would've thought it's a bear," Helena marveled.

"He's a great dog. One time I got home and realized my apartment had been broken into, and Grunt was just sitting at the bedroom door, staring at the closet and growling. The burglar was hiding from Grunt in my closet," Hawke said, and Helena laughed.

They continued chatting and getting to know each other throughout the meal, and while Helena did find herself genuinely enjoying Hawke's company, she did feel an uncomfortable awkwardness brewing inside her whenever she considered that this was supposed to be a romantic setting. She doubted Hawke had fallen in love with her any more than she had with Hawke (which was not at all), but she assumed that or some form of it was the goal here. Helena wished she knew how she would tell Hawke it wouldn't happen without hurting her feelings.

Simply blurting out "I'm not going to have sex with you, and I do not see myself becoming romantically interested in you" would've been honest and direct, but also incredibly rude, lacking all discretion. Helena didn't like rude and she hated being considered rude even more.

"Listen, Hawke..." she muttered once they were done with dessert. Hawke raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue. "I need to tell you something before you get the wrong idea. I like you, a lot, but only as a friend. I don't really see us becoming the love story of a century."

"Who said anything about love, I was talking about good, old-fashioned lust," Hawke chuckled softly, and Helena paused for a moment, trying to figure if she had heard any hurt in Hawke's voice. There wasn't any as far as she could tell, she was being sincere about her interests, which made this a little bit easier for Helena.

"Oh. Well, um... that's not really an option either," Helena said.  
"Really? Damn."

"Yeah, I don't... I don't like sex," Helena disclosed, and Hawke blinked in surprise.  
"In that case, I can in all sincerity and honesty say, I have never met anyone like you," she commented with an amused scoff a few good seconds later.

"I guess," Helena laughed awkwardly. "But I really like you, as in I like spending time with you, maybe we could be friends?" she suggested, hoping she didn't sound quite as pathetic as she felt.  
"I would like that," Hawke nodded with a smile.

"Wonderful. To new friends," Helena smiled back and raised her glass.  
"To new friends," Hawke repeated after her and they drank.

* * *

"Have you seen Helena?" Hunnigan inquired after poking her head into Leon's office. He leaned back in his chair and raised his arms over his head, interlacing his fingers behind his head.  
"I have and she's very pretty," he jested and Hunnigan rolled her eyes. She should've seen that comment or something similar coming.

"Very funny. She was supposed to send me a report, but she forgot to the attachment from the email."  
"She went out with Hawke. Like on a date," Leon informed her and Hunnigan stood in stunned silence for a long moment.

"Oh. Good for her," she commented, and Leon quirked an eyebrow.  
"But?" he drawled.

"But what?"  
"I can sense the but, it's there, just say it," he grinned and Hunnigan scoffed wryly.

"But I'm not sure if Hawke is right for her."  
"What's it to you, why do you care?" Leon asked, his question seeming simple and innocent enough, but when Hunnigan began to answer it, she realized what he'd been going at.

 _I'm jealous,_ she thought, but instead she told Leon: "Because Hawke is so quick to make light of everything, and Helena's the serious type, I just think she'll get annoyed with Hawke's inability to be serious."  
"Uh-huh, or maybe they'll balance each other out," Leon commented.

 _Why am I jealous? Oh, this is like first grade all over again when Nolan stole all my friends. Well, he didn't steal them, they just preferred hanging out with him. That's it, I'm jealous because Hawke's taking away my only friend,_ Hunnigan reasoned, and while it felt accurate, she couldn't say it was all there was to it.

"Sure, that's a possibility," she shrugged an answer to Leon.  
"Is there anything I can do with the reports or whatever?" he then asked, already knowing she wouldn't accept his help, because when it came to reporting, he was about as useful as a chocolate coffee pot.

"No, you should head on home, I'll just send my report forward without hers included and go home too," she smiled.

When she got home about an hour later, Hunnigan found herself uncomfortable with the silence that had taken over the apartment. Aside from the occasional sounds coming from the neighboring apartments or the sounds of the dogs barking in the backyard across from her building, it was so quiet she couldn't help but feel lonely. In addition to that, the silence annoyed her because it left her with no other choice but to hear the low humming noise in her right ear, accompanied by a muted whiny noise in the left. Until it had happened to her, she hadn't known one could get tinnitus from tense muscles.

She turned the TV on for some background noise while she made herself dinner (rice and chicken with a peppery cream sauce).

 _I miss Helena,_ she sighed internally when she sat down to eat. _And I miss Seeley, I should call Major,_ she then mused, deciding she'd give him a call after eating. The call didn't last very long and not a lot was said, Seeley just mumbled something shyly before handing the phone back to his father.

"Josie and I were just thinking about taking him to the movies, you're welcome to join us if you want?" Major offered and it took Hunnigan a good few seconds to remember who the hell was Josie.

 _Josephine, right,_ she rolled her eyes at herself.

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to intrude."  
"It's not a problem, really."

"Major, think about this. If you were Josephine, would you want your boyfriend's ex-wife tagging along?"  
"Well, probably not, but-"

"Trust me," Hunnigan chuckled. "It's fine, and I do want Seeley to have a chance to get to know her properly without me interfering, so thanks for the invite, but no. I just called to ask how Seeley's doing."

She wished them a good evening and ended the call. When she looked at the screen, she noticed she'd gotten a message during the call.

"What the hell?" she laughed. Helena had sent her an image of cat which had an utterly shocked expression on its face, and she'd captioned it "That feeling when you realize you forgot the attachment from the email".

 _It's okay, I made up some numbers to cover for you,_ Hunnigan replied.  
 _Isn't that technically fraud?_ Helena messaged and Hunnigan snorted.

 _Indeed, and if you tell anyone, I will have you assassinated,_ Hunnigan wrote back and added a smiley face to the end.

It wasn't fraud exactly, and Hunnigan was relatively certain no one would even notice since she could pretty well predict the amount of expenses Helena's report would've added to the total, and really, it was the total anyone was looking at, they wouldn't bother with the details unless the total went over the budgeted amount by a noticeable sum which would warrant investigation.

 _How was your date? Leon mentioned you and Hawke had gone out,_ Hunnigan then sent, not wanting to end the conversation.  
 _It went ok, hawke's fun to hang out with but we're just friends. did you know she has a dog that's as big as bear?_

Hunnigan smiled, she'd met the slobbering, panting, huge dog, and she'd discovered quickly he was an intelligent and well-behaved dog, she could've sworn it understood everything said to it. She sent Helena a message telling as much.

Hunnigan had to admit she felt relieved when Helena told her she and Hawke were just friends. If there was something she'd learned from her past friendships, it was that when it came to choosing between spending time with a love interest or a friend, people often chose their love interest, at least in the beginning. She would've hated to have lost Helena to Hawke after just befriending her.

 _Yo! We still on for New Year's?_ a new message read, this time sent by her brother Nolan. She let him know she'd be over at his place as planned, and then asked him if he'd be okay with her possibly bringing a friend. After he'd told her to bring anyone she wanted, she spent the rest of the evening texting back and forth with him and Helena about the plans.

It wasn't until Helena's message in which she said she needed to go to sleep that Hunnigan realized how late it was getting.

 _I fondly remember a time before the invention of text messages when you could just call someone, and make and confirm plans within two minutes,_ Hunnigan wrote before wishing Helena good night.

 _LOL i can't remember what i did with all that extra time back then. good night Ingrid._

"Huh, she called me Ingrid," Hunnigan said out loud and felt a smile spread on her lips, unsure why Helena calling her by her first name made her smile, but happy over it nonetheless.


	16. Chapter 16

"When I told you I'd be here, I didn't expect to be doing so much catering," Hunnigan muttered to her brother as she helped him put frozen hors d'oeuvres in the oven and then went on plate the previous batch.  
"Well, that's entirely on you because I never gave you any reason to assume otherwise," Nolan said with a grin, grabbed a wine bottle and headed back to the living room to entertain his guests.

"Is it smart for him to be drinking? I mean, you mentioned he's been in rehab more than once," Helena said and went to give Hunnigan a hand.

Nolan's kitchen (much like the rest of the rather impressive apartment) was decorated with minimalist furniture, and steel and stone, giving the space a somewhat sterile overall look, not at all nice and cozy and homey, but exactly the kind of place one would expect a rich guy like Nolan to have; the more stuff you could afford, the less you held on to, hoarding everything "just in case" was a problem for the lower middle class and below.

"It is not, but according to him, his problem was never with alcohol, just with cocaine and opiates. And that's true, but it's also true he's playing with fire in a shed full of gunpowder," Hunnigan sighed, picked up the plate and carried it to the living room, replacing an empty one on the coffee table with it before returning the empty plate to the dishwasher.

"You don't have to stay with me, go mingle, have fun," Hunnigan then told Helena.  
"Truth be told, I'd rather stay here with you than risk being hit on by your brother again," she smirked.

"That's a shame because I really enjoyed watching you put him in his place," Hunnigan laughed, picked up her wine glass and went to stand next to Helena, both of them now leaning their backs into the island in the middle of the kitchen, looking over to the living room while they waited for the batch of hors d'oeuvres to be ready.

Helena smiled. Nolan was handsome (although he looked like a twenty-something kid since he'd shaved his face, but Helena hadn't commented on that, she didn't want him to know she'd watched his videos in which he'd still had the handlebar mustache and lengthy stubble) and rather charming, a shameless flirt for certain, but his inability to take no for an answer had forced Helena to somewhat embarrass him in front of his guests (which hadn't been something she'd really wanted to do). When he sang "Welcome to the gun show, we've got mass and veins" to the tune of Guns 'n' Roses' "Welcome to the jungle", and showed off his biceps while giving a suggestive wink and a grin, she hadn't been able to stop herself.

"You're cute, but mine's bigger," she'd told him and mimicked his pose, showing off her bicep which was only slightly bigger, but noticeably better defined. He'd shrugged it (and the sniggers from his guests) off with humor, remarking that Helena didn't know it yet, but clearly, she was his future wife.

The timer went off and Hunnigan went to pull the hors d'oeuvres from the oven and proceeded with the familiar act of transferring them onto a plate before heading out to serve them. With a resigned sigh, Helena followed her out to the living room, quickly proceeding through it and stepped outside to the terrace.

She draped a quilt over her shoulders and lit a cigarette, looking over the snowy courtyard and parking lot surrounded by the buildings in the area. The penthouse apartment was large, by Helena's guestimate at least 1500 square feet, possibly over. When she'd complimented the place to Nolan, he hadn't missed the opportunity to casually mention it had cost "only" six hundred thousand dollars, money he'd made writing various commercial jingles. She'd expressed her skepticism but when he'd listed a few of the jingles he'd written, Helena understood why he would've made that kind of money; every one of them was one of those extremely popular ones that got stuck in your head.

"Add to that what I make from sponsorships, soundtracks, and from audiobranding, six hundred thousand is pocket money," he'd told her proudly.

 _What are you doing here? You don't belong with these people, you don't have anything to offer to anyone, not even in a simple conversation, you're just embarrassing yourself._

"Huh, there you are, you've been awfully quiet recently," Helena muttered to her grandmother's voice exhaling the cigarette smoke deeply. She tensed up a little when she heard the door open, followed by the sound of people entering the terrace, lighters clicking as the others coming for a smoke break lit their cigarettes.

"I'm just saying, when it comes to mass murders, everyone's always talking about Hitler, but no one ever mentions Stalin."  
"Those numbers are exaggerated, their kill count is around the same, but the difference is, Stalin was in power for a lot longer, meaning Hitler killed the same amount of people in way less time."

"You idiots are completely ignoring the fact that it's not the dictators that got people killed, it's communist ideals that caused it all and made it possible, and not just in Russia and China. Look at Cuba, for fuck's sake. And then people walk around wearing fucking Che Guevara-shirts, having no idea that the guy was to Cuba what Hitler was to Germany. Fuck those people."

Helena put out her cigarette despite there being almost half of it left; this was a conversation she didn't want to get dragged into. She gave an uneasy smile as she slipped back inside from between the slightly drunk and agitated guys, and let out a breath of relief upon managing to escape the scene before getting asked for her opinion. She had no interest in debating history or politics, nor did she have the time and energy for it either, she had her hands full just living and doing her job today.

 _Oh, so you're better than them because you don't have the luxury of having the time for inconsequential debates? You're so hard-working and productive, is that it? You're not. You're an uneducated moron who doesn't know enough to even form an opinion on something as commonly known as the subject those three were discussing. You're a woman-shaped battering ram, not the kind of a person anyone could have an intellectual conversation with. You're good at hurting people, that's all. You're useless. You shouldn't be here._

"Is your sibling rivalry still alive?" Helena heard someone ask, followed by the sound of Hunnigan letting out an amused snort.  
"I don't think it's really much of a rivalry really since he never wins," she said.

"Of course, you realize, this means war," Nolan narrowed his eyes. "Twenty bucks says tonight is the night you lose."  
"Make it a hundred and I'll happily whoop your ass," Hunnigan replied.

"Deal," Nolan said and produced several bills from his wallet, Hunnigan doing the same and placing the money on the table over his. Helena went to take a seat on the couch and leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, curious to see what would come of this.

Within a few minutes, _Guitar Hero_ had been set up and the siblings stood by each other holding guitar-shaped controllers, bickering over which songs they should play. Not that the choice of songs mattered in the end because as predicted, poor Nolan didn't stand a chance.

* * *

"I love this painting. Who is she? Or did you just find the painting from a random marketplace?" Helena asked and pointed up at a large wooden frame featuring a painted portrait of a woman with dark skin, brown hair, and amber eyes that made Helena think of a tiger's eyes. She wore a bicorn hat on her head, large gold earrings and more gold around her neck, she was grinning and appeared to be rolling a coin between her fingers.

"That's our great-great-great-great-great-great..." Nolan went on until Hunnigan rolled her eyes and slapped her palm over his mouth.

"A distant ancestor from our mother's side, pirate queen Isabela. According to the stories my grandmother used to tell me, she was quite the badass. Story goes she used to tear open her shirt to show her breasts to the men she'd defeated in duels, but I think that was something a lot of female pirates did, not just Isabela."

"Tits out for murder!" Nolan proclaimed, his words and voice slightly muffled by Hunnigan's hand which was still over his mouth.  
"Why would she do that?" Helena frowned as Hunnigan yanked her hand away from Nolan's face when he deliberately drooled on her.

"To humiliate the men, to make sure the last thing they knew before dying was that they lost a duel to a woman," Nolan answered, failing at his attempt to duck when Hunnigan wiped her saliva-covered palm into his shirt.  
"My kinda lady," Helena raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"Then you're gonna love our mom. I mean, she doesn't tear her shirt open when she humiliates men... as far as I know, but other than that, based on what I've heard of the pirate queen, mom's definitely her reincarnation," Nolan said and Helena chuckled. Based on what _she'd_ heard from Hunnigan about their mother, she sincerely doubted she'd get along with her.

It was getting close to midnight and everyone moved to the terrace to see the fireworks that would soon be lighting the sky. Helena went to lean to the railing and it wasn't long before Nolan made his way over to her.

"What?" she frowned when she saw his grin.  
"Well, you know what they say, you're in for a miserable lonely year unless you get a kiss at midnight on New Year's eve," he wiggled an eyebrow.

"Don't even think about it."  
"I'm already thinking-" Nolan was saying before being interrupted by Hunnigan who pinched his ear between her thumb and forefinger and pulled him away. "Ow, bitch! That really hurts!" Nolan snapped and grabbed Hunnigan's wrist, digging his thumb deep on its underside, pressing into a nerve, forcing Hunnigan to let go of his ear.

"Motherfucker!" Hunnigan hissed and managed to flick the backside of her hand against his face before he pushed her away from himself.  
"Do you guys need to be separated?" Helena scoffed.

"I'm going, I'm going. Jesus, no need to go all Isabela on me," Nolan smirked, walked past his sister and went to mingle with his guests.  
"Sorry about him, he's a persistent bastard, and used to getting everything he wants because that's how he was raised," Hunnigan scoffed.

"Well, at least he has great taste in women," Helena grinned.  
"On that we can agree," Hunnigan chuckled and took a drink from her wine glass, completely oblivious to how her remark had made Helena's heart swell.

 _Don't flatter yourself, she's just being polite. And she wasn't defending you, she was defending her brother from embarrassing himself and possibly being sued for harassment,_ her grandmother's voice didn't waste any time bringing Helena back to reality from the little high.

Hunnigan leaned her side to the railing, facing Helena and regarding her with a smile. Helena couldn't think of a response, her mind preoccupied with how much she wanted to take advantage of the moment to steal a kiss under the guise of New Year's tradition, then internal debate with herself over all the reasons she should not even consider doing something like that.

 _Hunnigan knows you're gay, she would assume it meant you were in love with her even if you weren't, you know how straight people can get, they think themselves irresistible to the gays in their lives. If she thought you were straight, she probably_ would _kiss you because she'd think you don't get off on it,_ Helena mused, not sure what to call this voice within her. Perhaps Reason because so far it was the most reasonable one dwelling in her head.

 _But I_ am _attracted to her, so she wouldn't be wrong to assume I'm getting off on it,_ Helena argued with herself.

 _And you don't want her to know that, all the more reason to not do anything._

"Do you want to-" Hunnigan began to say, her words interrupted by the fireworks that went off without a warning or a countdown, and the people on the terrace cheered, raising their glasses to a new year.

* * *

By two in the morning, Helena had learned that drunk-Hunnigan had the most ridiculous laugh, it kind of reminded her of drunk-Stewie from _Family guy_ , only slightly less loud, and she'd learned that she found said laugh adorable. She'd also learned that when it came to drinking, neither Hunnigan or Nolan had a pit stop between happily drunk and wasted, they simply switched over from one to the other without any warning and no one was the wiser of the switch happening until something like a friendly match of slap cup turned into a screaming match ending in the twins yelling the words "This is why mom doesn't fucking love you" to each other in almost perfect unison, a certain aura of familiarity shadowing the happening, implying this was the usual result of them having too much to drink while in each other's company.

Helena had not learned what Hunnigan had intended to say before being interrupted by the fireworks a couple of hours prior and frankly, that bothered her more than everything else that had happened since. She considered just asking about it, but the moment had passed. Not to mention Hunnigan didn't seem to be in any condition to answer.

"Ow... shit," Hunnigan breathed heavily after Helena had managed to help her home and to bed.  
"What's wrong?" Helena asked as she picked up the boots Hunnigan left on the floor, followed by a trail of the clothing she'd managed to remove before slumping onto the bed.

"My boobs hurt. I need the thing," Hunnigan slurred and made a fist with her hand.  
"What thing?"

"The squeezy thing, what the fuck is it called?"  
"You mean a breast pump?" Helena suggested and Hunnigan snapped her fingers before holding the index finger up high.

"Yes!"  
"Okay, well, I'll go get it for you, where is it?"

"...in New York. I left in a huff after I got into a fight with mom and I forgot it in the dishwasher there, and then I was like, fine, I'll just stop, it's not like Seeley _needs_ it, and perhaps mom was right about me doing it just to feel important in someone's life, God knows no one else needs me for anything. But don't ever tell my mother I said she might be right," Hunnigan said.

"I won't," Helena smiled wryly and would've wanted to take a moment to let Hunnigan know she needed her, very much so, but she didn't have a chance before the taller woman spoke up again.  
"I figured I'd squeeze out what I needed by hand and wait to dry up, but apparently my body thinks it's a fuckin' dairy farm."

"What do you need?"

 _You could offer to just suck it out,_ Sergeant Good's voice said and Helena could hear the villainous smirk in it.

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, but it did nothing to banish Good. She didn't even know why she still bothered trying, the intrusive thoughts never having ceased their assault before regardless of her actions or attempts at distracting herself with something else. She supposed it came down to simply not wanting to go down without a fight.

"A warm towel," Hunnigan answered and Helena nodded.

 _Don't act like you hadn't thought about it, wondered what it would feel like to have her milk spill over your tongue, what it would taste like. Sweet, I'm guessing._

Helena rolled her eyes at herself as she soaked a small towel in warm water and then wrung it before heading back to the bedroom to give it to Hunnigan.

 _There's no need to be so embarrassed, you're hardly the only one in the world who has a mommy-fetish. Besides, in your case, it makes sense, it's not like the actual mother-figures in your life nurtured you and offered unconditional affection. Hunnigan's been mothering you since she took you under her wing in the first place, and let's face it, she's taken better care of you in the past couple of years than your flesh and blood-mothers ever did._

Helena averted her eyes when Hunnigan removed her shirt and bra, draped the warm towel over her breasts, and proceeded to give her breasts a massage.

 _You're sick._

 _Oh, there you are,_ Helena thought when her grandmother's favorite thing to call her crossed through her mind.

"Gimme a hand, hey, will you?" Hunnigan requested, and Helena frowned, not sure what to respond, assuming Hunnigan had meant she needed a hand expressing the milk.  
"Yeah, sure," she said upon realizing Hunnigan was requesting assistance in getting up from the bed. She walked Hunnigan to the bathroom and stayed outside the door in case Hunnigan needed her help again.

 _How dare you even think yourself worthy of her affection? It never occurred to you that nobody has ever loved you simply because you are unlovable? Blame me or your parents all you want, it doesn't change the fact that you were always the problem. You don't deserve to taste her._

Helena closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, mentally listing movies she'd seen, reciting song lyrics, trying to remember the names of the kids she'd gone to school with, anything to distract her mind and silence the voice, but it was only a temporary solution.

 _She knows what it is like to create life, what it feels like growing inside, what it feels like bringing it to the world, what it means to sacrifice yourself to protect and provide for your creation, what it means to be a mother. Compared to you, she is the goddess of all creation, and you're only capable of destruction, you're unworthy. How dare you even assume she would care for you? How dare you assume to have the right to feel her and taste her?_

"She doesn't care, she shouldn't, and she won't, I get it, just shut up already, I feel bad enough for now," Helena mumbled softly to herself. She perked up when she heard a crashing noise from the bathroom.  
"Are you okay?" she knocked on the door.

"I'm fine. At least I think I am," Hunnigan's voice called out. "Is that blood?" she added, sounding genuinely amazed by the fact that it might be, and Helena exhaled deeply as she decided she had to go check.

Hunnigan was on her knees in front of the bathtub, her bare back facing the door. There were shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel bottles scattered on the floor and lying on their sides on the edges of the corner shelf against which Helena assumed Hunnigan had crashed her head.

"If anyone ever tells you Ingrid Hunnigan doesn't know how to party, tell them about tonight. Or, actually, don't tell them all the details," she smirked as she gripped the edge of the tub and pushed herself upright only to end up falling in the opposite direction. Helena lunged to her and managed to catch her before she hit the hard tile floor.

 _"I dun feel sho ghud,"_ Hunnigan snuffled, her head lolling back against Helena's shoulder as Helena helped balance her against the edge of the tub.  
"Hang on a bit," she said and stood up, reaching to open the medicine cabinet.

"What are you doing?"  
"You have a little wound on your head, I'm just looking for something to clean it with and patch you up with," Helena said, picked up the items she needed and stood on her knees behind Hunnigan then.

"Your breasts are incredibly soft," Hunnigan said when Helena urged her to lean her head back so she could clean the wound while still helping Hunnigan to keep from falling down.  
"And yours are hopefully feeling better?" Helena said somewhat awkwardly, keeping her eyes fixed to the little gash on near Hunnigan's temple, looking now like a little extension to the tip of her eyebrow.

"Uh-huh. You know what?"  
"What?" Helena asked and put a band-aid over the wound.

"I have a great view into your nostrils from here," Hunnigan said and then laughed that ridiculous yet oddly adorable drunk-laugh, and Helena couldn't help but laugh with her.  
"Glad you enjoyed it," she said. "Are you done here, can I take you to bed now?"

"Yes, thanks," Hunnigan said and Helena helped her up. "Wait, wait, I gotta rinse the tub or it's gonna spoil," she then protested when Helena was about to move her toward the door.  
"I'll clean up in a minute, okay?" Helena promised and escorted Hunnigan to bed before turning and going to rinse out the tub and put the fallen bottles back on the shelves.

"You okay?" she asked from Hunnigan once more after exiting the bathroom.  
"Yeah, I just... I think I aggravated an old injury," Hunnigan mumbled as she sat on the bed and rubbed her right shoulder. Helena was torn between feeling relieved and kind of disappointed when she noticed Hunnigan had put on a T-shirt, both emotions overrun by a sense of irony when she considered she'd done everything in her power to avoid perving at Hunnigan's breasts when they'd been right there but was now lamenting them being covered.

"What happened?" Helena inquired and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"I got injured during a basketball game in college, one of the other players rammed into me while I was in the middle of dunking the ball, sent me flying into the pole holding the basket up, smashed my shoulder pretty badly, and thanks to that, it acts up now and then," Hunnigan said.

"Do you have any painkillers?"  
"I've got aspirin which probably won't help, and Oxy, but mixing opiates and alcohol is more Nolan's thing," Hunnigan groaned and lay down.

"Yeah, let's not go there," Helena agreed and tucked Hunnigan in. "Will you be able to get to sleep?"  
"I'll be fine, don't worry about me."

"Okay."  
"Helena?"

"Yeah?"  
"Will you stay with me? I don't like being alone, and... frankly, I'm alone quite a lot nowadays," Hunnigan muttered.

"Of course," Helena agreed, removed her outer layer of clothing and got in bed.

She lay on her back, her hands folded over her stomach, thinking how ridiculous it was of her to feel this awkward and stiff around Hunnigan when in the past she'd been more than happy to straight up cuddle with her in a sleeping bag. But that had been before she'd come to realize she was genuinely developing feelings for her. Cuddling now would mean more to her than it would to Hunnigan. It would end in pain for Helena because she'd feel guilty over enjoying it more than Hunnigan knew, and because she'd want more. Wanting more of something that was next to impossible to get was a pain she could do without. Unfortunately, Hunnigan didn't know that and had other ideas.

She gripped Helena's wrist and nudged her arm up until she'd created herself a sweetheart's cradle to snuggle into. She scooted closer to Helena and pulled the blanket over them, putting her arm around Helena's midsection and tucking her feet between Helena's calves, completely shameless in the act of stealing her body heat, ignoring the surprised mewl and squirm from Helena when her cold extremities made contact with her skin.

"Admit it, you're not lonely, you just wanted someone to use as a heater."

"Why can't it be both?" Hunnigan said and slipped her hand under the hem of Helena's T-shirt, flattening her cold hand over Helena's lower abdomen while pressing the back of her other hand against the outer side of Helena's thigh. Helena exhaled deeply through her nose and resisted the urge to move Hunnigan's hand away.

She didn't mind it being cold, she didn't mind the touch (on the contrary), but she didn't want Hunnigan feeling the little bit of extra softness that had gathered there, she didn't want Hunnigan to feel the raised scar tissue marking her skin. Helena didn't want Hunnigan to become aware of all the flaws she wore nowadays, internal and external.

"Why did you want to kill yourself?" Hunnigan asked, surprising Helena, who had thought she'd fallen asleep already.  
"Because I hurt inside," Helena responded in a mutter.

"Can I do something to help fix it?"  
"...no," Helena whispered, a rueful smile on her lips as she considered the friendly offer. "But thanks for asking."

"I don't want you to die. You're the best friend I've ever had, and I love you," Hunnigan said quietly and tilted her head back to be able to press a firm kiss on Helena's cheek before nuzzling into the side of her neck.

"I'm... not going anywhere," Helena swallowed hard, struggling to keep her heart from swelling at the words and the gesture, ultimately losing the fight, having to admit that for one precious moment, she felt genuinely happy.

* * *

When Helena woke up, it took her a moment to figure out what it was that had woken her. She recalled where she was and with who, and couldn't help but smile a little at the fact that she'd ended up sharing a bed with Hunnigan again, it was becoming a common occurrence, one that she quite enjoyed, perhaps a bit more than she should've; she was well aware that all she was doing was setting herself up for getting her heart broken if Hunnigan ever questioned the nature of their friendship and Helena would be forced to admit her feelings toward Hunnigan were rapidly growing beyond what could be considered just friendship.

She was barely willing to admit to herself that she was attracted to Hunnigan, she certainly would never dare to admit as much to her. She dreaded Hunnigan's reaction and didn't even want to try imagining it. She didn't dare to imagine what it would be like if Hunnigan _did_ reciprocate her feelings. It was so unlikely daydreaming about it would be a waste of time and would only make the longing for having something she couldn't worse. So, she denied it from herself, admitted she would not say no if Hunnigan made a move, but would never expect her to.

It was depressing but at the same time, there was a certain joyfulness about it. It was exciting having a crush on someone; the butterflies in her stomach when she arrived at work and saw Hunnigan's car in its designated spot at the underground parking lot beneath the DSO headquarters, the way her heart leapt when she saw Hunnigan, the way talking to her and being near her just instantly made Helena feel better. Nothing more would ever come of it and that was sad, but what she was already getting out of it made it worthwhile.

Hunnigan made a pained sound, and Helena realized that was the noise she'd woken to. Helena sat up and turned to face Hunnigan.

"Hey..." she whispered and put her hand over Hunnigan's forehead. Her skin was pale and clammy, and her hair damp with sweat. "Hunnigan, wake up," Helena said, and had to repeat it a few times before Hunnigan finally opened her eyes, breathing heavily.

"I feel terrible," she grumbled and sniffled. "Why is it so hot in here?" she asked and kicked the blanket off of her body. It wasn't hotter than the average room temperature, but Helena didn't bother correcting her on that.  
"How's your shoulder?"

"Not great. Oh, shit. I think I'm gonna puke," Hunnigan groaned, sat up and blew out a few deep breaths before hurriedly scuffing into the bathroom.  
"Oh dear," Helena winced a little at the loud, violent retching sound that followed quickly after the bathroom door closing. Helena took the time to go grab a tall glass of water for Hunnigan, she had a feeling the other woman would want it when she got back.

"This is the worst hangover I've ever had, how much did I drink?" Hunnigan muttered after making it back to the bed, her skin still pale and sweaty.  
"You were pretty drunk but I don't think it should've resulted in a hangover this bad," Helena frowned.

"Wait until you're over thirty and every hangover lasts at least two days and you feel like you're dying for the most part of those two days," Hunnigan smirked and accepted the glass of water Helena offered her. She asked Helena what had happened last night and drank the water as she listened to Helena recount the events and fill in the gaps.

"That explains why my everything hurts," Hunnigan commented, finished her water and rolled her neck a little. "Well, almost explains it, I have no idea why my jaw hurts, I guess I hit it too when I fell into the tub," she added and put the glass on the bedside table.

"Your jaw?" Helena repeated and Hunnigan nodded as she lay back on the bed and blew out another deep breath before tugging on her shirt in an attempt to cool off, the fabric clinging to her sweaty skin. Helena went to refill the glass and made a detour at the medicine cabinet.

"Take these," she said as she handed Hunnigan the water and some aspirin before grabbing her phone.  
"Who are you calling at this hour?" Hunnigan frowned.

"Nine-one-one."  
"Because I have a bad hangover? Talk about overreacting," Hunnigan scoffed amusedly and lay back down, assuming Helena was joking about who she was calling. She wasn't.

"No, I'm calling an ambulance because I'm pretty sure you're having a heart attack."


	17. Chapter 17

"Count back from one hundred."  
"One hundred..."

 _I am going to die. I suppose it's okay, I don't really have anything I'd need to finish. Seeley will be fine, he's so young he won't even remember me so he won't know to miss me, and Major will take good care of him. My life's work is a joke, at least according to Skylark, what was it she said? Something along the lines that I'm just a glorified navigator. So, no one will miss me there. My friends... I don't have any friends. The few I thought I did only wanted me because they wanted my brother, so also not a problem. Helena's got Hawke. Leon's got Claire and Sherry and half of the BSAA, not that he ever really considered me a friend-friend, I don't think. A work-friend, maybe, but not the kind of friend you'd hang out with, not like he does with Helena. My family... they never needed me unless there was something I could do for them, so they won't miss me; they might miss the favors I did, but that won't be my problem._

"Ninety-nine..."

 _I don't want to die, but if I have to, I'm okay with it. Who knew. After all the shit I gave Helena about wanting to commit suicide, I think I shouldn't be this fine with the thought of dying myself. Maybe I've been wanting to die too but never even realized it._

"Ninety-eight..."

 _"Good luck, love. See you in recovery," she said. I'm going to miss her._

* * *

Helena sat in the waiting room, her arms crossed over her abdomen, leaning back against the wall behind the chair, her eyes closed. She'd been here for hours and had no intention of leaving until she knew what Hunnigan's status was. For now, she was still waiting to be operated on, and that's all Helena knew.

She heard someone enter the hall and didn't pay attention to it any more than she'd paid attention to the other people walking through, not until she heard Hunnigan's name mentioned. She turned to look and saw Major at the receptionist's desk.

"Major," she said to the tall man and he turned to her.  
"Hey! Um... Helena, right?" he recalled and Helena nodded. "What the hell happened? Ingrid called me and said she needed to talk to Seeley and tell him she loves him because the staff wasn't sure if she'd make it. Make it from what!"

"She had a heart attack."  
"She's thirty-four, she's too young to have a heart attack, she doesn't even smoke," Major scoffed in disbelief, running his hands through his thick dark auburn hair, his entire being the definition of a man on the verge of panicking.

"She had something called spontaneous coronary artery dissection which basically means there's a tear in one of her major arteries and it hasn't healed, and over time, blood's clotted around the tear and it led to a heart attack. It's a pretty common heart problem in young females," Helena explained to him as calmly as she could, unable to keep from feeling the twisting and tugging of panic beginning to brew in her core as well, as if seeing him carry it had infected her too.

"Jesus Christ."  
"They're gonna do a bypass... it's a pretty routine procedure, there's nothing to worry about," Helena tried convincing him.

"Yeah? Then why did the people here tell her to call Seeley and tell him she loves him like she wouldn't be able to do it later!" Major snapped. Helena quirked an eyebrow, not unsympathetic, understanding that getting agitated in a situation like this was more than normal. What bothered her wasn't his reaction or that he was taking out his frustration on her; what bothered her was how terrified of losing Hunnigan he genuinely was.

 _I think he's still in love with her._

"Because she was told that by the nurse in the emergency room and he's no cardiologist, he was just making sure there wouldn't be any regrets. She's going to be fine, trust me on this," Helena said, managing to keep her concern to herself as she worried that telling Hunnigan "Good luck, love, I'll see you in recovery" through the narrowing doors sliding shut between her and Hunnigan would be the last thing she ever spoke to her. She couldn't afford to lose it now. She'd have a meltdown in private later, have a good cry as the adrenaline from being terrified all this time would step aside, everything pouring from her to ease the anxiety she felt. But not yet. Not until she knew Hunnigan was in recovery.

"Shit. What am I going to tell Seeley?" Major sighed as he ran his hand over his face, his beard making a quiet scratching sound as his palm slid over it.

"I don't claim to know the first thing about Hunnigan but I don't think she'd want Seeley to know and worry. Just be normal and ask Hunnigan if she wants to see him once she wakes up. She might not want him to see her in a hospital, so it could be you'll have to tell a few white lies to your son, can you do that?" Helena asked and Major nodded as he listened.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right, she wouldn't want him to see her like this, you're right," he repeated himself.  
"All right. Good. So, just... calm down and let's wait until we know what the situation is, okay? Someone should be around to tell us something soon, just sit tight. I'm gonna go get us some coffee, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Major agreed and took a seat. When Helena returned several minutes later with two paper cups of coffee, Major was talking to a woman in scrubs, apparently the surgeon who'd operated on Hunnigan.

Helena felt her heart freeze over as she saw their body language, the surgeon's hand on Major's shoulder, his head hanging low. It didn't look good.

 _Oh, God, please, please, don't take her away,_ Helena thought frantically. The surgeon said something Helena couldn't hear, and Major nodded once more, Helena reading the word "okay" from his lips as the surgeon offered a wry smile to him before turning to exit the area.

"Well?" Helena asked, trying not to sound as demanding and urgent as she felt.  
"She's in intensive care, they said it would be a couple of days before she's going to be in any shape to see visitors, but she's gonna be okay, thank God," Major smiled, tears of relief brimming his green eyes.

"Good, good, that's excellent news," Helena said, suddenly feeling like she might throw up when the knots in her stomach loosened at the good news and a wave of calm flooded her senses, the relief almost overwhelming.  
"The surgeon said there's nothing to do here for now, we should head home," Major said.

"Yeah... you're right. Um, do you have her brother's contact info? Or her parents'? I figure they might want to know," Helena then said.  
"Oh, yeah, don't worry about it, I'll let 'em know," Major promised.

"All right, great. I'll... see you around," Helena muttered and exited the building.

Once outside and safely away from the entrance, she dug out a cigarette and lit it, realizing only then her hands were shaking. She'd managed to take the first drag when she felt her mouth flood with saliva and she doubled over. She leaned against a lamp post, retching loudly as her body convulsed from the reaction, finally released when the sour-tasting contents of her stomach splattered on the sidewalk, causing people who'd been walking toward her to cross the street and rather take the other side, possibly thinking she was a drug addict in withdrawal, or at the very least drunk.

"Oh, fucking hell," Helena groaned and spat repeatedly to expel the stubborn string of sticky saliva that refused to break and kept on clinging to her lower lip. "I need a drink."

* * *

The last thing Hunnigan could remember before waking up groggy and uncomfortable was counting back from one hundred.

 _Ninety-seven,_ she tried to continue but she couldn't speak, the tube inserted in her windpipe preventing that. When she glanced around the room and down at herself, she realized it wasn't the only tube sticking out of her body, the bed surrounded by noisy machines keeping tabs on her vitals. Her mouth had never felt as dry and she couldn't remember the last time she'd overall felt quite as uncomfortable as she did currently.

She hadn't been awake for long before people came into the room, checking up on her, making sure she was coherent, asking her to sit up if she could. They then proceeded to explain to her what they'd be doing next, namely, removing the breathing tube.

"All right, now give me a big strong exhale," the man performing the extubation said and Hunnigan complied. "There we go, good work," he smiled. Hunnigan couldn't say she fully agreed, but the coughing fit she had prevented her from making a remark at that moment.

"Well, that was about as unpleasant as I figured it would be," she finally said hoarsely.  
"You'll feel better in no time," he assured her.

"I'm sorry but I assume I'll need more than a minute to recover from having my chest cracked open and my heart tinkered with."  
"Well, fortunately, Mrs. Hunnigan..."

"It's 'Ms'," she interjected.  
"... _Ms_ Hunnigan, fortunately, we didn't have to resort to such drastic measures, you're lucky you were brought here, we're fully equipped to handle performing minimally invasive surgeries," the man said, obviously proud of his employer's capability.

 _I'm sure it'll show on the bill,_ Hunnigan thought but said out loud: "Could someone tell me what happened?"

He proceeded to tell her what had caused her heart attack, continuing on to the details of her surgery, repeatedly bringing up how fortunate it was that they were able to go ahead with the less invasive option because "recovering from it will take less time and the scar won't be as noticeable", and Hunnigan wondered if he was trying to convince her to leave a positive review or why he was coming on so strongly about how absolutely awesome this place was.

 _Maybe someone died and they're being sued and could use the good press,_ Hunnigan mused. _Or maybe he's a born salesman and just doesn't realize it._

"We'll keep an eye on you here for a couple of more days before moving you to another unit for the rest of the recovery time."  
"I feel fine, can't I just go home?"

"Oh, I'm sure you do, but I assure you, once the drugs wear off, you'll be glad you're here and hooked up to a bag of it," he smirked. "Speaking of, there's the PCA-pump, don't hesitate to use it if you need it."  
"Okay."

"Do you have any other questions?"  
"No, I can't think of anything."

"All right. Try to get more rest, and I'll talk to you later."  
"Thanks."

* * *

Helena took several deep breaths in an attempt to try and calm down her heart. She could feel every beat pulsing in the back of her head, the pain thumping up her scalp, down her neck, over her forehead. She'd been hungover before but this was a special kind of "fuck you for poisoning me"-pain that her body radiated, the kind that followed the nights she'd stayed up too late and smoked way too many cigarettes.

"Oh, fuck, where am I?" she muttered when she realized she had no recollection of what had happened after she'd arrived at the bar, downed two or three supersized Zombie Punches, laughed at her friend the bartender Jane's joke about being busier than a one-legged woman at an ass kicking-contest, Jane emphasizing her joke by knocking her knuckles against her prosthesis, and then... no data available.

She looked around the room, realizing wherever she was, the one room was pretty much all there was to the apartment. She could hear water running beyond the wall right by the bed and assumed whoever lived here was in there. The bed was nice, comfortable, not too soft and not too hard, the blanket thick, the pillow the expensive memory foam-kind. But looking around more, she realized the bed was pretty much the only thing the owner had invested in.

There were no tables, just milk crates and sturdy cardboard boxes that served as surfaces on which various items and books rested. No TV, just a laptop sitting on an old, repainted wooden chair. The walls were exposed brick, the entrance to the apartment covered with a sliding metal door, locked only with a screwdriver that had been inserted through the hasp.

She was about to wonder who on Earth lived like this when she realized this could easily be how she lived if it weren't for a few lucky coincidences (or, well, Simmons's meddling followed by more meddling, that time performed by Hunnigan), it wasn't like there were a lot of jobs available for people like her, people who were prone to violence and didn't have much of an education or experience that would be useful in civilian life. She supposed she could've gone back to the military, but... after what she'd seen, she didn't think she would've lasted long there either.

Helena pulled the covers aside and sat up (her body rewarding her with more pulsing pain in the back of her head) realizing she wasn't wearing anything other than her tank top.

"Oh, shit. Shit!" she hissed. The water stopped running in the bathroom and Helena frantically looked around for her clothes, not seeing them, then covered herself with the blanket then when the bathroom door opened.

"You're awake, good! Feeling great, I expect?" Jane chortled as she dried her wet auburn hair before draping the towel over her shoulders, the rest of her body exposed, but Helena had never recalled her being the shy type and frankly, in the military, modesty wasn't really an option a lot of the time.

"Where are we?" Helena managed as she watched Jane walk over to the chair at the back of the room and take a seat. She removed the white acrylic shower leg and began patting herself dry.

"We're just above the bar."  
"You live above the bar?"

"Yeah, and amazingly, I'm still almost always late for work," Jane laughed and reached to grab a silicone liner from atop of a milk crate. She turned it inside and out and began to roll it onto her leg.  
"Does this bother you?" she then paused to ask.

"Why would it?" Helena frowned.  
"People are usually fine with amputees, but tend to get weird if they actually have to see the stump. No, sorry, correction, the 'residual limb', which apparently is the politically correct word for it nowadays, but I personally have more important things to worry about than what people call my _stump_ ," Jane rolled her eyes, slid her leg into the prosthetic and stood up, walking in place for a moment, listening for the tell-tale clicks that told her everything was properly secured.

"I was more disturbed by witnessing how you ended up having a stump in the first place, so this is nothing," Helena assured with a wry smile, unable to keep an unpleasant memory from briefly flashing in her mind's eye. There'd been so much blood, and it had been so loud. The bullets and rockets flying at them, obviously, but not just that. It was the screaming she couldn't dispel from her memory no matter how much she tried.

It wasn't like in the movies because regardless of how good an actor someone was, there was no way to replicate anguish and pain like that, not without genuinely suffering it.

The screaming. The explosions. Even the hum of the flames eating up the overturned vehicle, all of it, just so loud.

"Well, good," Jane said as she worked to put the fairing in place over the leg, her voice snapping Helena back to reality. Helena noticed the fairing consisted of an intricate pattern or swirls, webbing, and vines.

"That looks cool."  
"Thanks, designed it myself," Jane smiled.

"So... are you gonna tell me what happened, and where are my pants?"

"You downed a shitload of rum, then switched to beer despite my objections and despite the fact that you should know better than to mix alcohols, pick one and stick with it or your hangover will be even worse," Jane explained, buttoning her shirt. "Then you started crying over something I couldn't quite get all the details of, but I presume you've fallen in love with a married woman because you kept going on about a husband, then it was closing time and you said you didn't want to go home because there was no beer there, so I brought you up here."

"And my pants?" Helena dreaded to ask, the heat of embarrassment burning her face as she listened to the retelling of the various ways she'd fucked up last night.

"Don't worry, nothing tawdry happened, you just kicked them off, yelling that your pussy needs air," Jane smirked and nodded toward the foot of the bed where Helena's jeans and underwear lay bunched up. "You spent the night spooning me and here we are, no harm done."

"Thanks for bringing me here, I don't want to imagine where I would've ended up at if you hadn't," Helena said and pulled her underwear on.

"Probably freezing to death in a ditch somewhere, can't let that happen to the woman who saved my life. I guess this makes us even, though, I gotta say your story of saving a life is way more heroic than simply walking a drunk friend up the stairs," Jane laughed.

"Didn't realize we were keeping score," Helena smirked and zipped up her jeans. Someone knocked (or banged the side of their fist more like) on the door, the metal making a thunderous noise which didn't do Helena's headache any favors.

"Jane Palmer?" a male voice inquired once Jane had slid the door to the side.  
"Well, my friends call me Jane Fucking Palmer, but yeah, that's me, what can I do for you?"

"You've been served. Have a nice day!"  
"No, I will not have a nice day!" Jane yelled after the man as he disappeared from view. She closed the door and opened the paperwork as she walked back and took a seat on the bed.

"Trouble?"  
"Bla-bla-bla, 'You shall appear in Judge Honeycutt's courtroom on February 9th 2014. If you fail to appear, a warrant'... bla-bla-bla," Jane read the subpoena, then folded it up and threw it across the room.

"Did you piss someone off so badly you're being sued?"  
"Yeah, God, probably judging from how much everything sucks," Jane smirked. "Anyway, forget that. Get dressed and we'll get you some hair of the dog that bit you."


	18. Chapter 18

Hunnigan had spent about a day and a half mostly sleeping. The times she'd been awake, she'd been rather out of it, partly due to the medication, partly because she was just so damn tired. She couldn't remember much. She could remember her parents had called, and that her mother had called her "kitten" (something she'd done less and less frequently over the past few years), but that was all she could remember of that conversation. She recalled having told Nolan and Major things she'd at the time felt were profound and deep-

 _What if we're part of a story that someone's writing?_

-things that were downright rude-

 _Okay,_ _salope, pourquoi je me moque de ta musique, chatte? Putain de gros cul de fromage burger._

-and things that were just out of it-

 _If I'm a cat, why do I sound like a horse on helium?_

-and she could recall them chuckling at it all when they'd been present to witness her gibberish, but that was it. Not that she believed she'd missed much other than the incessant beeping of the machines she'd been hooked up to.

The past couple of days she'd felt better, and today she felt ready to go home. She missed Seeley, and Major had asked her if she wanted him to bring him to visit her, but she'd told him no, she didn't want Seeley to see her like this. When Major had told her Helena had figured that much too, Hunnigan realized Helena hadn't been to see her at all. Not that it was surprising, Hunnigan was relatively certain the hospital only allowed family or spouses (which Major still was according to the hospital's records, Hunnigan made a mental note to update that) to visit patients in the intensive care unit, but somehow Hunnigan expected that if Helena had wanted to see her, she would've been here.

 _Well, maybe she just didn't want to see me. Or maybe she just didn't want to cause trouble by insisting she gets to visit. What difference does it make anyway._

Hunnigan didn't know why it mattered so much, why it bothered her, but it did.

Major had informed director Shepard of Hunnigan's situation, and she'd be off-duty for two weeks. She'd been told she would need at least six weeks to recover fully, possibly more, but fortunately her work wasn't the kind that required her to physically push herself to the limits, so she didn't think she'd need more than two weeks off anyway. She knew Shepard would allow her to take off more time if she needed it, he'd probably insist on it even, but frankly, Hunnigan didn't think she could afford it. She dreaded to imagine how much her stay at the hospital would end up costing her even after what her insurance covered.

 _The way that one guy went on about how awesome the team handling my surgery was I assume we're talking about sums well over my annual income before taxes,_ she sighed internally. _What luck that I ended up here, though. Otherwise they really would've cracked open my chest,_ Hunnigan thought as she changed, feeling happy to be out of the hospital gown and back in her own clothes, namely a T-shirt, hoody, and jeans _._

 _Wait,_ she then frowned when the realization hit her. It probably wasn't a lucky coincidence at all; odds were Helena had known about this place and had specifically had her brought here.

Hunnigan decided that a thank you would be in order, for many reasons, this one being the most recent. She dug out her phone from her pocket and dialed Helena's number, sitting on the edge of the bed to talk while waiting for Major to come pick her up. When the call was answered, Hunnigan had to momentarily pull the phone away from her ear because the background noise was so loud.

 _"-with toast, you idiots,"_ Jeri Hawke's unmistakable accented voice said in the distance.

 _"Wait, did you say 'toes' or 'toast', because putting that on your toes is a whole other business,"_ Leon said, his voice followed by one Hunnigan didn't recognize.

 _"You just lost the fight for your right to party."_

"Harper."

 _She's at a party or at a bar, maybe having an after work-drink. Of course she is. What did I expect, that she'd sit around at the hospital waiting room all this time? And why would I even expect that from her? From anyone, really, but especially her, she has no obligation toward me. Frankly, she's already gone above and beyond,_ Hunnigan thought.

"Hi, it's In-," she began to say but corrected herself, "...Hunnigan. Just wanted to catch up and say thanks, but it sounds like I've caught you at a bad time, I can call you later."  
"Oh, I'm so glad to hear you're okay. You _are_ okay, aren't you?" Helena asked and Hunnigan smiled at the concern, it was nice to know someone cared.

"Yes, I'm fine, and I believe I have you to thank for it."  
"Don't mention it," Helena chuckled.

 _"You have to, Kennedy, you're my butler!"_ Hawke yelled in the background.  
 _"Do it or I'll kick your ass,"_ the unknown female voice said.  
 _"With what?"_ Leon laughed loudly.

"Jane, put your leg down!" Helena suddenly yelled, the exchange followed by a brief commotion. Hunnigan frowned, wondering what the hell was going on over there as she waited for Helena to come back on the line.

"I'm gonna call you later, or you can call me when you're not busy, I just wanted to check in," Hunnigan spoke when Helena finally got back to her.  
"No, no, it's okay, I want to talk- Jane! Put! That! Down!"

Hunnigan was beginning to wonder if Jane was a person or a misbehaving pet because judging from the way Helena was speaking to her, either could have applied.

"I'm hanging up now, I'll talk to you later," Hunnigan spoke loudly and thumbed the screen to end the call.

She didn't have to wait for much longer until Major showed up to ask if she was ready to go. She told him she was, she'd been signed out and given instructions on what to do next, and she had her first post-operation appointment scheduled. She had told Major she could just call a cab, but he'd insisted; he always had been the sweet and attentive kind.

"Seeley's with Josie, I thought you might want to settle in before I bring him over," Major said as they got into the car.

Hunnigan felt disappointed, and a little jealous when she considered her son had so quickly become so comfortable with a woman he barely knew that he could be left alone with her without risking him crying after his father. She couldn't help but feel like she was being replaced on every frontier of life. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, especially not when she thought about her son forgetting her for another mother-figure.

 _Well, what did I expect? I'm never home, and when I am, I'm on the phone or reading my emails while barely paying attention to him, I bet Josephine has the time and patience to play with him for more than five minutes. Maybe he would've been better off if I'd died and he could stay with Major. If I were half the mother I pretend I am, I would've let Major have custody because I know he's the better parent and Seeley would be better off with him, but I'm too selfish to allow that._

"Ingrid?" Major spoke, and Hunnigan realized she hadn't yet responded to him.  
"No."

"No?"  
"No, I want you to bring my son home."

"He's my son too."  
"Don't. Just don't, I have zero patience for this now, just bring him back."

"Are you sure that's a-" Major began to ask but swallowed the rest when Hunnigan gave him the level ten-death glare. "Right," he nodded instead.

Once home, Hunnigan had to bite her tongue to keep herself from snapping at Major when he fussed over her, constantly asking if she was sure she didn't need anything or if he should stay over. She finally convinced him to just go home and exhaled deeply when the door closed behind him. After several days in the hospital and after constant noise either from the machines or from the staff or other patients, the silence that draped itself over her felt overwhelming, but in a pleasant way.

Hunnigan decided to take a quick shower to get rid of that sterile hospital-smell that she felt was still clinging to her skin and hair. She paused to look at the scars from the surgery in the mirror. The swelling and bruising were fading, and the wounds themselves were rather small, and the bigger one a little higher mostly disappeared underneath her breast. Not that aesthetics were her main concern, but she had to admit she was relieved, especially when considering the alternative of having a long scar split her chest right in the middle.

After showering, she dried off and dressed in a loose T-shirt and pajama pants, heading to answer the door shortly after dressing when the doorbell rang. It was Major who had brought Seeley home as Hunnigan had told him to.

"Mommy!" he yelled happily and instantly raised his arm toward her, expecting her to pick him up. Hunnigan was under strict orders to avoid any kind of lifting, and instead dropped to her knee and pulled him into a hug, swaying him back and forth gently (ignoring the stinging pain in her side as she moved) as she peppered his cheek with little kisses that made him giggle. When Hunnigan looked up, she realized Major hadn't come alone but rather with a woman Hunnigan had to assume was Josephine.

She had black hair, full lips, and a subtle beauty mark beneath the right corner of her mouth, near the edge of her jawline. But what really caught Hunnigan's attention was the color of her eyes; they weren't blue or green or something in between, they were more like grey with barely a hint of blue-ish shade, the irises surrounded by a subtle ring of amber.

"I figured you two might as well meet," Major said, apparently oblivious to the slight awkwardness of the situation. Timing had never been his forte.  
"Josephine Montilyet," she introduced herself.

"Ingrid... Del Rey," she responded, deciding at the last minute to use her maiden name. Like updating her emergency contact information, changing her surname back her maiden name had been on her to do-list for quite some time, and remained one of those things she kept putting off.

It would involve so much paperwork, and she'd have to get all her ID badges updated, she'd need to change her username at the agency systems (something she was capable of doing herself but would've had to route through the tech guys regardless because unbelievably, she didn't have administrator rights to her work laptop, and bypassing it by hacking would've required her to answer questions later and who the hell had time for that), and even after jumping through all the hoops to be officially known as agent Del Rey, everyone would _still_ call her Hunnigan anyway. But in this case, calling herself Del Rey made sense, made this feel somehow less awkward.

"I hope you're feeling better," Josephine said.  
"I am, thank you. And thanks for looking after Seeley, I know he can be a handful."

"Nonsense, he's my special little guy, and he's no trouble," Josephine smiled and the boy smiled back.

Your _special little guy?_ Hunnigan thought somewhat bitterly, realizing how childish she was being but knowing that doing nothing to make her feel less petty. It also did nothing to keep that sinking feeling from dripping through her when she saw Seeley reach toward Josephine for a hug.

Shortly after the introductions, they said their goodbyes and Hunnigan closed the door before kneeling beside Seeley to help him unzip his jacket and take his backpack (which weighed barely anything since all he'd packed was a small motorcycle-shaped stuffed toy and a kitten-shaped one) off from his shoulders.

"So, what do you wanna do, little dude?" Hunnigan smiled at him.  
"Watch the ponies?" he suggested and Hunnigan chuckled.

"Yeah, that does sound like fun, let's do that," she nodded.

Not long after that, they were on the bed, the theme tune to _My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic_ playing in the background from the laptop's speakers as Hunnigan lay down, Seeley sitting on the bed, using Hunnigan's midsection as a backrest to lean to. Hunnigan didn't quite share her son's interest in the antics of the animated ponies, so she reached for her phone. Helena hadn't called her back.

 _I don't know why I expected her to._

When she lay down she caught a scent clinging to her pillow and blanket. Helena's perfume. it was faded, but still recognizable, hints of citrus mottled with sandalwood and some kinds of herbs; a fresh and light scent, somewhat masculine but most of all, it was very... Helena.

Hunnigan nuzzled the spot on the edge of the blanket and inhaled the scent. It had quickly become familiar, one that she'd become to consider almost soothing because she associated it with being near Helena, and that never failed to make her feel better.


	19. Chapter 19

"Well, for me it was those times when we'd have to go pick up patients from areas that were just flat terrain on an open field. In a situation like that, you're a sitting duck. And then you see vehicles approach and you have no way of knowing if they're friendlies or not. Could be an ally, could be a truck full of explosives a suicide bomber has decided to ram into you, and all you can do is wait for confirmation either way because you can't fire on them until you've positively identified them as a threat," Helena answered Leon's question about what she'd considered the most uncomfortable thing during her deployments in Afghanistan. She supposed he'd expected her to share something a little lighter, like maybe complain about the weather or the cuisine.

"So, were they friendlies or not?" Leon asked and took a long drink from his glass. Helena had invited him and Hawke to join her and Jane at the bar after their shifts, surprising both with the invitation; she wasn't known as the social butterfly at the office. Truthfully, she hadn't intended to stay at the bar for longer than for one or two drinks, but she'd slid from hungover into getting happily drunk again as she'd remained there, deciding it would be more fun with a friend or two. Anything beat having to go home and sit there in silence, alone and sober.

"I don't know, we were extracted before the truck reached us," Helena answered.  
"That's no way to tell a story, a very unsatisfying ending," Leon shook his head.

"I know, this is why I am not the one who usually tells the stories, she is," Helena chuckled, nodding toward Jane.

It was true; telling stories was Jane's specialty. Helena didn't know how she did it, but when she told a story, everyone listened, captivated. It didn't even have to be an exciting story or a particularly good one, somehow she managed to keep her audience interested in it just because something about her made them want to keep listening to her speak. Helena had suggested she write a book, but Jane had told her that would never be an option because telling stories and writing them were two very different things, and she couldn't write for shit, as she'd put it.

"Do you ever miss it?" was Leon's next question and Helena paused to think about it for a while.  
"Call me crazy, but yes, a part of me does miss it. The feeling of saving a life out there is... unique. But, there's always the other side of the coin, and I could do without the pain."

"Do you plan to go back at some point?"  
"Not currently, but there isn't anything to stop me, I suppose, not now that I'm... alone," Helena said, her words quieting toward the end of the sentence as she considered she had no reason to stay here. She had no one to look after since Deborah's death.

"Your job is stopping you," Hawke remarked and Helena barked a laugh.  
"I'm the DSO's most unwanted, no one would miss me. Besides, I signed up for four years, which means I'm at the army's beck and call for eight; I'll be in the reserves for a couple more years, so I could get drafted, and I don't think a job at the DSO overrides orders from the army," Helena shrugged. She doubted it would happen, but she had come to expect the unexpected in the past year.

"I still think it's bullshit that you didn't get a silver medal for that," Jane said.  
"I don't really agree," Helena laughed.

"Why didn't you?" Leon asked.  
"Because back then at least women weren't allowed to take part in combat."

"Not even in self-defense?" Leon's eyebrows rose. "Wack."

Helena shrugged. That had been the explanation as far as she could figure out anyway. She then excused herself to use the ladies' room and left the table. She leaned into the sink after washing her hands and hung her head a little. She inhaled deeply, counted to five, and exhaled, continuing to count until she reached ten.

"Come on... snap out of it," she told herself as she brought her fingertips to her eyebrow and tapped on it and then circled to the side and underneath her eye in an attempt to get out of the weeds of anxiety that kept overgrowing her thoughts. Telling herself to snap out of it wasn't what she'd been instructed to tell herself during this method of decompressing, but the whole "I love myself and accept myself"-mantra wasn't for her, most importantly because it would've been a blatant lie.

Helena knew Leon's questions about her and Jane's time in Afghanistan hadn't been meant to stir up bad memories and he'd been very polite asking about it in the first place, and Helena hadn't minded answering. But the more questions he had, the more she had to think back on it, and the worse she began to feel.

* * *

 _The vehicle's right front tire hit the mine, the force of the explosion sent the truck flying and flipped it over before it landed on its side on the road. Helena blacked out for a while, she couldn't tell how long exactly, but she woke to the sound of her ears ringing loudly. Dumbstruck, she blinked repeatedly, knowing what had happened and still, somehow at the same time not comprehending it, her brain needing a moment to catch up with what was going on._

 _It was meant to be a routine patrol with the infantry, check on the locals, treat them if necessary. They'd been doing it for months, and they'd usually been a welcomed sight, people flocking over to them, sometimes people with medical needs, sometimes kids asking for candy. Occasionally people (typically men) came over just to look at the oddity that was a female soldier. They were considered strange because they were supposed to be women but as far as the local culture went, they weren't dressed like women, and therefore they could not be women, they were odd neutral beings in uniform, an oddity to behold._

 _The roads had been swept clean not long ago, and there'd been no reports of any activity in the area, it should've been safe. But, it was becoming bitterly obvious that they'd missed at least one, or someone had planted it just recently._

 _Everything outside was grey with dust and Helena struggled to shove the door open. She threw her bag outside and climbed out of the wreck, the ringing in her ears began to slowly fade, replaced with the hum of flames rising in the front of the vehicle._

 _"_ _Oh, no. No, no, no," Helena whimpered when she saw Maxima's upper half lay several meters away. She ran to her, fell to her knees and began to gather up what little she could find; flesh, bone and blood covering her hands, sand clinging to them as she helplessly tried to put her friend back together. It made no sense to her in that moment, everything above Maxima's waist looked intact, no injuries to her face, not a hair out of place, even her helmet was still securely on, but regardless of all that, there were no signs of life._

 _Finally, the sound of Jane screaming snapped Helena awake, her panic quickly replaced with her training and muscle memory that took over and she got on the radio to ask for help and inform others of what had happened. She reported the casualties, the shrapnel wounds of the men who were still alive and Jane's below-the-knee-amputation as she assessed who to treat first. Those who were alive didn't seem to be in immediate danger, but Jane was at a risk of bleeding out. Helena pulled her gloves on and went to her._

 _"_ _THAT HURTS, DON'T FUCKING TOUCH IT!" Jane screamed at her when she worked to put the tourniquet in place._

 _"_ _If I don't, you'll die, and you're not allowed to die on my fucking watch, you fucking hear me, Palmer? Not today!" Helena screamed back at her and yanked the cord tight. Helena then grabbed her bag and scampered to the next patient who sat on the ground, looking dazed and groggy. She ran her hands over his body to pinpoint the location of the injury, and as she was doing that, he frantically grabbed her forearm. At first she thought she'd touched an injured spot but then she noticed how shallow his breathing was._

 _"_ _Take a deep breath for me," she told him and he couldn't comply. "Shit, shit, shit," Helena cursed through clenched teeth as she dug into her bag. She filled a needle with ketamine and injected it to sedate him before getting the chest dart out._

Come on, Helena. Keep it together, _she mentally told herself as she willed her hands to steady. If she missed her mark, she could hit an artery and he'd die. She palpated his chest until she located the right spot, and inserted the needle. She tried to listen for the sound of air escaping but her ears were still ringing from the explosion. She turned her attention to the groggy soldier and asked him if he could breathe. He gave her a lazy thumbsup and she nodded, telling him to sit tight as she moved to the next soldier._

 _He had multiple shrapnel wounds on his legs and mild burns on his hands, but he seemed to be faring better than the others. Helena dressed the wounds before getting back on the radio to inquire what the hell was taking the helicopter so damn long. She was informed that it wouldn't be landing until the point of impact had been swept for more bombs by the ground team that was headed their way._

 _"_ _Are you kidding me!" Helena scoffed to herself when she heard that. She understood why it was necessary, she knew that the Taliban's typical modus operandi was to plant more than one bomb at a site (one to cause enough damage to call for help, the rest to cause further damage to those who would come to the rescue) but knowing that and understanding that precautions needed to be taken to avoid more casualties wasn't much of a comfort when you were waiting for help, knowing that every minute wasted meant someone was closer to dying as the golden hour ticked down._

Good God, please don't let this get any worse, _Helena prayed in her mind, having barely finished when she heard the sound of vehicles approaching. For a moment she held hope that it was the ground team, but when she looked over the wrecked vehicle, she realized God had answered her prayer with the exact opposite of what she'd prayed for. She saw four motorcycles approaching, and it took no more than a quick glance to see they were all carrying rocket launchers on their backs._

 _She looked around frantically, trying to spot somewhere safe to move, the vehicle would provide some cover but considering that these guys came armed with rocket launchers, she would've preferred being further away, at a better point from where to fire back in the hopes of keeping them at bay until backup arrived._

 _"_ _All right. All right. Let's go," she breathed when she saw the remains of a stone shelter a hundred or so meters away. It wouldn't stop a rocket, but it was on higher ground and right now, the only option because staying put wasn't one._

 _Moving the soldier with the chest dart would be the toughest part so Helena hurried to get him to his feet, there was no time to worry about the dart, if they didn't move, they'd be dead for certain. The soldier with the shrapnel wounds was able to walk over himself, stubbornly hurrying beside Helena despite the spreading stain of blood seeping into the bandages wrapped around his injured shin. Once she was satisfied that they were as safe as they could be there, Helena went back for Jane._

 _"_ _Please, give me something to knock me out," she pleaded when she saw Helena._

 _"_ _I can't, I'm sorry, I can't give you anything, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Helena repeated. Jane had lost a lot of blood, her blood pressure was bound to be too low, giving her pain medication could make it crash completely and cause her to go into shock which in this situation would almost certainly be fatal._

 _"_ _Brace yourself, Palmer, this is going to hurt but it'll beat the alternative," Helena then said as she snaked her arms underneath Jane's and pulled her into a sitting position before yanking her up until she was standing on her uninjured leg. Helena then moved to stand in front of her, held on to Jane's arm and leaned down. She put her arm around Jane's leg, reaching to use the same hand to grip her wrist and pushed herself up, lifting Jane onto her shoulders and began to jog to cover, the sounds of the approaching motorcycles growing louder even over the shouts of pain emanating from Jane._

 _Once in cover, she checked on her patients before readying her rifle and peering over what little cover the stones provided. The four men stopped by the vehicle, using it as a shield as they opened fire. Helena flattened herself against the stone and ground her teeth, the feeling of concern and sadness switching over to fury._

 _These were the men responsible for planting the mine and setting the ambush. These were the men responsible for the death of the driver and the injuries to her brothers and sisters in arms. Most importantly, these were the men responsible for killing Sergeant Maxima Ibsen, and for that alone, they had to die, and Helena wanted to be the one to make sure that they did._

 _She took out her handgun and fired it blindly to scare the men into cover, offering her a chance to get her rifle and steady it, preparing herself to fire the moment she saw one of them pop their head out from cover._

* * *

To this day, Helena didn't know what exactly had happened next. She'd blacked out; the next thing she remembered was being in the helicopter, being checked out by the medics sent over by the Air Force. She'd sat there, staring at the blood stains on the metal floor, the medics attending to the soldiers, then to Helena. Apparently, at some point she'd gotten scraped by a bullet or shrapnel (she didn't know which) resulting in a long narrow cut along the left side of her head, what little scarring left behind nowadays hidden by her hair which at the time had been noticeably shorter. She remembered she'd wanted to ask about Maxima but the words hadn't come out, and intellectually she'd known they wouldn't board a dead body with the patients, but she hated having to leave her behind, she should've been there with her.

And then... it had been over. She'd been patched up, dusted off and sent back to work. Of course, when Jane told the story later, it sounded much more heroic than it had been. She liked to exaggerate to make the story more gripping and epic. Not that Helena could argue with Jane's "the truth is boring"-reasoning because it _was_ boring, at least to listen to. "We hit an explosive, we were patched up while we waited for back up and then we were picked up" wasn't anywhere near as entertaining as Jane's dramatic re-telling of the events.

Not that it didn't have its uses; when they'd spent the day at the bar drinking, Helena had quickly become aware of how she and Jane were nothing but tits and ass to the men at the joint. Their attitude shifted dramatically the moment Jane made them aware of the fact that they were veterans. It didn't make Helena want to hang out with them any more, but at least they went from trying to flirt to asking about their service. Helena wasn't sure which subject she liked less, but that's where Jane and her stories came along, and Helena was more than happy to let Jane do the talking.

When it had gotten later, Helena had decided to call Hawke and see if she'd be interested in joining them at the bar, and she'd shown up with Leon. Helena had been glad to see them, only she hadn't expected him to accidentally keep the conversation on the topic she'd hoped he would inevitably steer it away from, namely, her service.

Having managed to calm herself back down, Helena took one more deep inhale, let it out slowly and finally exited the ladies' room. Her phone rang and she thumbed the screen to answer as she approached the table.

"It's actually good, but every time I see someone try it, they're doing it wrong. They're smearing like ten inches of it on when you should just put a thin layer on toast, you idiots," Hawke was saying and Helena didn't know what Hawke was talking about and she wasn't sure she wanted to know either.

"Wait, did you say 'toes' or 'toast', because putting that on your toes is a whole other business," Leon commented.  
"You just lost the fight for your right to party," Jane told him, shaking her head to emphasize her disappointment in him.

"Harper," Helena finally spoke up to answer the call.  
"Hi, it's In- ...err, Hunnigan. Just wanted to catch up and say thanks, but it sounds like I've caught you at a bad time, I can call you later."

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear you're okay. You are okay, aren't you?" Helena asked, remaining a couple of steps away from the table, wanting to focus on Hunnigan, a feeling of happiness swelling in her chest at just hearing her voice, a sense of relief and joy flooding her heart at knowing Hunnigan was alive and apparently well.

"Yes, I'm fine, and I believe I have you to thank for it."  
"Don't mention it," Helena chuckled and glanced at the table where Hawke's glass had run empty and she promptly told Leon to get a refill.

"You have to, Kennedy, you're my butler!" Hawke reminded him, something Leon had been reduced to after he'd lost a beer-chugging competition to her.  
"Do it, or I'll kick your ass," Jane threatened, determined to enforce the outcome of the game.

"With what?" Leon burst out laughing and Helena winced.

She knew he didn't mean it as an insult, not really, it was just Leon being his usual dumbass self; Helena hadn't known him for very long but she'd quickly realized Leon was a smart, intelligent man, but that he was also a complete dumbass. Jane would not know this, not to mention she was getting drunk, and she easily fell into the category of "gets violent when intoxicated"-category of people, meaning this would become a fight. When Helena saw Jane reach down to push the button that released the locking mechanism on her prosthesis, she knew shit had hit the fan.

"Jane, put your leg down!" Helena yelled and lunged toward her to intercept as Jane raised the leg above her head and prepared to bash Leon's head in with it, the patrons on the other tables turning their heads toward the commotion, various gasps and mutters easily audible from them as they looked at the odd display.

"I'm gonna call you later, or you can call me when you're not busy, I just wanted to check in," Hunnigan said on the phone and Helena desperately did not want her to end the call.  
"No, no, it's okay, I want to talk-" Helena began when she saw the way Jane was gripping the handle of the beer mug and the death glare she was giving Leon.

 _She's gonna kill him, she's gonna cave his pretty little head in,_ Helena thought and intercepted once again.

"Jane! Put! That! Down!" she said sternly and pressed her hand over Jane's wrist, forcing her arm to remain still and down.  
"Come on, guys, not cool. Leon, you're a jerk, and Jane, you need to chill before we all get kicked out," Hawke chimed in.

"I'm sorry. That was insensitive, and I shouldn't have said it. I apologize," Leon said.  
"You may live," Jane dismissed and began to work her leg back in place, and Helena was certain Jane was far from actually having forgiven him, and that Leon had no idea how close he came to being hospitalized, but she was glad to take a lousy truce over an open war.

When Helena finally had a chance to turn her attention back to her phone, she realized Hunnigan had hung up on her. She contemplated calling her back now that things had quieted down.

 _Oh, that's a great idea. Bother the tired woman in recovery by calling her drunk from a noisy bar, just what she needs, to listen to your slurring and mumbling, you fucking idiot. Leave the woman alone, she deserves better than you. She's got friends and family... she's got Major, he'll look after her better than you could hope to, what makes you think she'd need you? Don't flatter yourself, you're not important or necessary, not to her, not to anyone._

"All this fighting is just sexual tension, you two should just kiss and get it over with," Hawke teased jokingly and took a sip from Leon's drink since he had so far failed in his butler-duty to get her a new one.  
"Well, he is kind of cute," Jane shrugged one shoulder.

"Hey, ladies, don't talk about me like I'm not here, I am a person, and you're just sitting there, looking at me like I'm a piece of meat!"  
"I wouldn't, I'm a vegetarian," Jane interjected.

"Do you have any idea how much I suffer being objectified like this? Do you!" he spat.  
"Uh... Leon..." Hawke muttered.

"I'm just messing with you," he laughed heartily, then rubbed his hands together in an exaggerated manner before slapping them over his knees. "So, who wants to make out?"  
"Don't look at me, I'm a lesbian," Helena shook her head when he wiggled his eyebrow at her.

"Would it help if I told you I can swirl my tongue?" Leon asked and poked his tongue out to demonstrate, the fleshy organ grotesquely wriggling between his lips.  
"Please stop doing that," Helena grimaced and Jane stood up, stepped over to Leon's side of the table and grabbed his shoulder.

"Oh, you're coming home with me," she smirked and he stood up. She directed him to the back of the bar, the bartender visibly groaning as he shook his head at Jane's antics, apparently not in a position to tell her to stop dragging customers up to her apartment above the bar, but definitely wanting to say it.

"Good Lord. I feel like I've just created a monster," Hawke said and Helena laughed. Hawke went to get them more to drink, and Helena took her phone out, again considering calling Hunnigan back.  
"You've been fiddling with your phone like a teenager, you expecting a text from your crush?" Hawke taunted as she took a seat.

"No, it's just... Hunnigan called, but we couldn't talk with all the fighting just now, and I'm not sure if I should call her back," Helena explained.

She let Hawke know Hunnigan was all right, probably getting home from the hospital today. Director Shepard her let the field agents know Hunnigan would be on sick leave for a while, and he'd gone on to arrange a "get well soon"-bouquet of flowers and card to be sent to her, but he hadn't gone into details about what was wrong, he'd felt it was a personal matter and that Hunnigan should get to decide herself if she wanted to share the information with the agents.

Of course, that had opened to door to a lot of gossip, agent Skylark quickly going to the worst case scenario. According to Hawke, she'd loudly speculated it had to be cancer of some kind because that would explain why Hunnigan had "looked so terrible" recently.

"What does that even mean, Hunnigan looks the same as she always has, she looks good," Helena scoffed.  
"Yeah, not to mention that's rich coming from Skylark, she is a living example of how an incredibly negative attitude affects your appearance because I was certain she had to be in her mid-sixties when I met her, nice people in their forties who don't complain about everything don't look over sixty," Hawke shook her head and Helena chuckled.

"For the record, Hunnigan had a heart attack," Helena decided to clarify things.  
"Shit, for real? How does that happen to someone her age?" Hawke's eyebrows rose in surprise and Helena shrugged a little.

"Well, I mean, she's really tall, her hands and feet are always cold which to me sounds like her heart was having to work overtime to be able to pump blood all the way to her limbs. Plus, it's not like her work is stress-free either. And she's got a young kid, so I doubt just relaxing after a long day is an option," she suggested. Hawke nodded, not commenting, and what was there to say anyway?

"What is that look, what? Do I have something on my face?" Helena then asked when she noticed how Hawke was grinning at her.  
"No, it's just, I'm realizing why I never had a chance with you."

"What are you talking about?" Helena frowned and drank from her pint of beer.  
"You're sweet on Hunnigan," Hawke said, her grin widening.

"Psh, no I'm not," Helena denied.  
"Suuure you're not."

"Give me a break, I'm not an idiot, it would never happen, so why would I waste time falling for her?"  
"I doubt your heart would ask for your brain's opinion," Hawke snickered into her glass as Helena desperately tried to find a way to change the subject. She got lucky.

"Look, there's Leon," she pointed him out as he emerged from the backroom and circled to the bar to get himself a drink before turning to walk back to the table.

"That was fast, I always thought you're the kind of guy who likes to cuddle after," Hawke said as he took a seat. Helena noticed he looked rather disheveled, even his hair was messy, and she'd never seen that before, not even during Tall Oaks or in China. Zombies, monsters, government conspiracies, didn't matter, Leon never had a hair out of place. Not until now. Helena also noticed he had scratches on his neck and red marks under his jawline, the crescent shapes undoubtedly left behind by a set of fingernails digging under his jaw as Jane had held his head in her hands. For what purpose exactly had she held his head, Helena didn't want to know. Unfortunately for her, he was about to tell anyway.

"I would've but the whole thing was over before I even knew what was happening. First, she has me on my knees, going down on her, and before I know it, she says she's done, pushes me to the bed and the next thing I know, I'm on my back with _my_ legs over _her_ shoulders, getting fucked in the ass with an oversized dildo strapped to her hips. There was lube everywhere, I think I have some in my ears."

"She told you to tell that story, didn't she?" Helena smirked, Jane's trademark exaggerations and the obvious sense of his monologue being pre-written and rehearsed giving it away.  
"Yes because telling you the truth about how she shoved her thumb up my ass during and I came like two seconds after and then she had me go down on her and kicked me out when she was done would be unflattering, but you caught me," Leon confessed.

"Yeah, I wish you wouldn't have said anything either way," Hawke commented. Helena didn't have a comment because she was busy trying to figure out why the story he'd initially told sounded so familiar.

She realized she'd lived it. She'd been in Leon's position in the scenario he'd described, only her partner had been Sergeant Good, there'd been no lube (blood served as lubricant only for a moment before becoming sticky), and she certainly hadn't been a willing participant.

 _So what, doesn't mean anything, I doubt there are many different ways one would go about pegging someone anyway, it's not like Jane must've learned about it the same way you did._

It was true, but at the same time Helena _knew_ she was right about this; Jane was another one of Good's victims.

 _How many more are there?_


	20. Chapter 20

It had taken surprisingly little effort for Helena to figure out where to go and when after she'd finally recalled the name of the judge from the subpoena Jane had read back to her a couple of weeks ago. Helena wasn't sure why she'd come here. She had no intention of going into the courtroom, she had no intention of speaking to the ADA (a blond man named Colin Rutherford, the man who had called Helena a while back and who did not look like what he sounded like on the phone at all) or even to Jane who had been ordered to show up here. She'd just felt... like she should see how it went.

So far she hadn't seen anything, she'd remained outside. She'd arrived just as Jane had been called to go in and take the witness stand, she'd meant to maybe quietly sneak in and take a seat in the back, show support, but... then she'd imagined their roles reversed. Had it been her taking the stand, she would not have wanted to see any familiar faces in the crowd. She wouldn't want anyone she knew to become familiar with the humiliating details of what she'd been subjected to in Good's hands.

Helena leaned to one of the pillars near the stairs leading down and exhaled deeply, silently questioning her decision to come all the way over here for this. What was the point? The courtroom's doors opened and she could hear a group of people walking and chattering, and she recognized Rutherford's voice when he spoke.

"You're lucky I can't prosecute you with murder."

Helena tensed up and swallowed hard when she heard Good's voice, this time for real and not just in her mind. It was sickening and terrifying how accurately her mind copied the voice whenever it put her down from within.

"You thinking you should have the right to charge me with murder over someone's decision to take their own life just shows how ludicrous you are, mister Rutherford."  
"You've been a predator since you became an officer, and I will bury you for what you've done," Rutherford threatened and Good scoffed.

"Your victim is dead, and the only witness you dug up was drunk while she took the stand; your entire case is smoke and mirrors. But I'm sure I'll love to see you try. Have a good day," she said.

Helena flattened herself against the pillar as Good walked by. She didn't notice Helena, just continued on to the elevator with her lawyer. She didn't look like she'd aged aside from the single stripe of grey hair among the dark brown, the long hair brushed back and smoothed out so meticulously it looked like it had been painted on, the length of it knotted into a thick braid which rested over her shoulder. When she turned as she waited for the elevator, her gaze stopped right on Helena, a small twitch visible in the corner of her mouth, her demeanor changing ever so slightly when she saw Helena and recognized her.

Helena wished she looked as intimidating and furious as she wanted to. Judging from the disturbed look on Good's face, she managed to pull it off at least somewhat convincingly. On the inside, however, she felt anything but intimidating.

She'd wondered what meeting Good again would be like, imagined what she'd say, what she'd do, occasionally fantasized about bashing in her brain if she was honest, but no matter how many scenarios she'd imagined and how many sets of dialogue she'd rehearsed in her mind, this was something she hadn't considered would happen; she froze - just like she'd frozen every time Good had assaulted her.

It didn't make sense. Why did it happen? What was it about Good that made her react like that? She wasn't that terrifying, Helena had taken on people and monsters worse than Good, but something about her was just... evil, and that was something Helena had not faced anywhere else.

 _Enemy soldiers, monsters, zombies, they're not evil, they simply do what they were created or trained to do, but Kassandra Good is evil. She consciously made the decision to do horrible things and regrets none of it, she's worse than a monster, she's not human, she's rotten and dark, just pure evil._

Helena felt a familiar red hot anger bubbling inside, flooding her veins, taking over her mind until the only thing she could concentrate on was the fury. Kassandra Good smiled at her just as the elevator's doors slid shut, and that smug smile only enraged the furious tempest within Helena further.

Helena would've walked to her and punched her nose in had Good not already disappeared behind the doors. Helena hurried down the stairs, pushing past people, ignoring their offended mutterings as she made her way toward the exit, determined not to let Good get away from her.

When she exited the building, she saw Good get into a car and rushed to her own to follow. She had finally broken free from the hold Good had had over her, she wouldn't freeze this time, no, she would not.

"It's time I 'talk with you up close'," Helena muttered to herself as she followed Good's car.

* * *

"Mais vous n'avez pas de famille," Hunnigan reminded Nolan over the phone when he whined that she never had time to hang out with him nowadays, and he grumbled it wasn't her family that was taking up all her time and energy nowadays as much as it was her work.

"Vous vous consacrez uniquement á votre travail. Moi, j'ai construit une vie, c'est différent," he countered and Hunnigan couldn't completely deny his point of her having devoted her life to her career. She also agreed that while he did indeed have a life, his circumstances were vastly different from hers. He could afford to have a life; she had to pay rent and utilities, she had a kid to keep fed and clothed, and whose schooling she had to pay for, and would continue to pay for in the future (unless he decided not to educate himself further which Hunnigan supposed could happen, but she wished wouldn't). She couldn't afford to take days off just for the hell of it; she did it only if she had no other option because the exhaustion was getting to be a bit too much and she needed to spend time with her son and decompress.

Since the heart surgery, director Shepard had forced her to take time off, and Nolan couldn't understand why she had not spent any of that time helping out with his projects. She'd promised him she'd write lyrics to three songs for the upcoming album he'd offered to produce for a rising star he'd scouted on the Internet, and she would get it done, Nolan just didn't think she would. He, like everyone else around her, was used to her immediately snapping to attention and instantly providing whatever was requested from her. He had given her a vague deadline, assuming she'd get back to him the same week, and when she hadn't, he'd gotten impatient.

It wasn't that Hunnigan didn't understand his frustration because in a lot of ways it stemmed from the same place as most frustration in her life did too, namely, not being able to do everything herself. She valued teamwork as much as the next person, but more than often having to work with someone else because you personally lacked the skill required for some element of the task at hand was infuriating. Nolan was a brilliant musician, he could play practically any instrument (but specialized in the piano and the violin) and he could compose anything from epic scores to simple commercial jingles, but he could not for the life of him write lyrics, or play the guitar as well as Hunnigan could. He occasionally joked that Hunnigan had sucked out his lyric-writing abilities from him when they'd been in the womb, and sometimes Hunnigan was convinced he actually believed that was what had happened.

In reality what had happened was that she'd gone through high school and college being the tall girl who couldn't get dates, and what a lot of tall girls who couldn't get dates did was they wrote poetry. Well, it was what she'd done anyway, and preferred to think she wasn't the only one. As for her guitar playing-ability, that could be attributed to the fact that her relationship with her mother had been rather strained ever since Hunnigan had been a child, and she'd turned to her father for parental attention after her grandmother (whom she'd adored) had passed. Her father had struggled to find an activity they both liked because their personal interests differed so greatly; it wasn't until Hunnigan had expressed interest in learning the guitar that they'd discovered what they could do together.

"C'est du chantage affectif?" Hunnigan inquired jokingly after Nolan reminded her of the fact that it was her fault he wasn't as creative these days since she'd been the one who'd put him through rehab so she owed him the songs he'd requested she writes.

"Non, du chantage professionnel," Nolan chuckled.

Hunnigan told him that she had to get dinner started, and promised to get back to him about the songs soon before ending the call, not giving him any chance to continue his attempts at emotional or professional blackmail. She then drew Seeley's attention away from the classic episode of _Tom and Jerry_ he was watching and asked him what he wanted for dinner. It took him a moment to figure out what had been asked because she'd asked him in French, doing the same thing her grandmother had done to her when she'd been a kid, namely, by only speaking French and rather than translating what was being said, using gestures and tones of voice to get her point across until the child understood what meant what.

Seeley couldn't think of the correct answer, so instead he just muttered a list of ingredients and explained the cooking process, and Hunnigan smiled, nodded and headed over to the kitchen, finding it rather ironic the French word for "bread" was the one he'd forgotten.

 _Not that the French would consider American bread real bread; I'm sure grandma Ingrid is spinning in her grave,_ Hunnigan thought amusedly as she thought fondly of the woman whose namesake she was as she put the skillet on the stove to heat up and took out slices of toast from their bag. She cut off the crust before placing a slice of cheese, ham, and a thin slice of tomato on the bread. She then put another piece of bread on top and pinched the edges shut before cracking an egg into a bowl and adding milk, salt, and pepper into it. She mixed it together and dipped the bread into it before spreading butter on the hot pan and frying the bread.

A few minutes later, she served the dinner in the living room, taking a seat next to Seeley and cutting his bread open for him so it would have a chance to cool a little before he'd smother it in ketchup and eat it. Thankfully, he was more interested in the cartoon than eating so he managed to wait long enough to not burn his mouth.

 _I wonder how Helena's doing, I haven't heard from her in a long while,_ Hunnigan thought. She felt guilty for not feeling more worried considering how close Helena had come to taking her own life, Hunnigan felt like she should've checked up on her more. Then again, constantly asking for updates would've just annoyed Helena; Hunnigan was certain she would've figured out exactly why she was calling Helena seven times a day. Besides, if Helena truly wanted to take her own life, Hunnigan doubted there was much she could do to prevent her from doing it ever.

 _God, it's been over a week since I checked in with her. I'm a terrible friend,_ Hunnigan sighed internally. She grabbed her phone and sent Helena a message asking how she was doing. Usually Helena responded rather quickly, but not today.

Seeley finished eating his dinner (most of it mushed onto his cheeks, some crumbled on the plate and the coffee table, and Hunnigan had to wonder had he actually managed to eat any of it) and climbed to sit on her lap. Hunnigan, having foreseen the mess he'd make, reached for the damp hand towel she'd brought with her and wiped his face clean before kissing his cheek and hugging him to herself as she leaned back on the couch, Seeley resting against her as he continued watching the cartoon. She nuzzled the top of his head, his light brown hair still freshly apple scented from the bath she'd given him earlier, and exhaled deeply. Seeley would spend the next week at his father's, and Hunnigan already hated the idea of him being away, it got too quiet at the apartment when it was just her.

 _Maybe I should get a pet,_ Hunnigan mused, but decided against it before even seriously considering it. Pets would require more time and attention than she felt herself willing or able to commit to.

 _Yeah, a pet isn't like a friend, can't kick them out of my life for the weeks I have something I enjoy doing more than spending time with them,_ Hunnigan thought, the mean words she imagined herself saying hitting hard when she realized that was exactly what she'd done to Helena.

She'd checked up on her, spent time with her, paid attention to her, but only when it had been convenient for her, only when she'd had nothing better to do.

 _Jesus, I really_ am _a horrible person. No wonder she doesn't want to talk to me,_ she sighed a little as she glanced at her phone and saw no sign of the blue light which would've indicated she had new messages.

 _No,_ she then thought defiantly, _I may be a terrible friend but I'm not doing it on purpose, I'm not using Helena, I really do enjoy her company, it's not like I only call on her when I'm lonely, it's not how it is. She's my friend, and I've been a bit busy with life, but she could've just as easily called me if she wanted to talk, it's not solely my responsibility to keep in touch. Maybe she's been busy too. We both have our own lives to live too._

For all Hunnigan knew, Helena was the one forgetting about her whenever there was something more fun to do, like hang out at bars with Leon and Hawke, which was something Helena seemed to be doing a lot recently.

 _So why should I feel bad for spending time with my son? Forget it,_ Hunnigan humphed internally, as if she were actually having an argument about the subject with Helena. Fortunately, she quickly realized how immature and stupid she was being about it.

She got up slowly, her arms still around Seeley who had fallen asleep in her lap, and she carried him to his bed and tucked him in, leaning to plant a gentle kiss onto his forehead before sneaking out of the room. She returned to the living room and switched to something a little more interesting than _Tom and Jerry_ , but she found herself unable to focus, her attention constantly darting back to her phone to check if she'd gotten a response from Helena. Finally, she caved in and decided to give her a call.

"Hello?" and unfamiliar female voice answered after the phone had been ringing for quite a while.

 _Crap, maybe I interrupted a date or something,_ Hunnigan realized, a sudden and uninvited mental image of Helena in bed with someone (Hawke in this case despite Hunnigan recognizing the voice speaking to her wasn't Hawke's, but she had no other woman to associate with Helena in that way), being interrupted by the call flashing through her brain.

She shook it off and introduced herself before inquiring with whom was she speaking instead of having reached her friend like she'd intended.

"I'm detective Tierra De La Cruz, I'm with the NYPD."  
"New York?" Hunnigan frowned. Why the hell was Helena's phone in New York, and why was a detective answering it?

"Would you mind saving me some trouble by telling me who this phone belongs to?" the detective asked and Hunnigan considered her options. She didn't think the detective would be asking if it weren't to find the owner of the phone to hold her responsible for a crime, and Hunnigan didn't really want to be the reason Helena got in trouble. Then again, it wouldn't take long for the detective to figure it out since all the DSO agents had agency paid phone subscriptions and all the detective had to do was enter the number into the directory and Helena's name would pop up. But since De La Cruz evidently hadn't done that yet, she must've only just now gotten hold of the phone. Question still was, why.

 _If this even is a detective I'm speaking to,_ Hunnigan then realized.

"Not at all if you don't mind giving me your badge number first," she said and the detective let out a half chuckle.

"Sure," she said and recited the number which Hunnigan didn't actually have any means of checking immediately, but she'd figured if this was indeed an impersonator, she'd get upset over even being asked for a badge number. Since she didn't, Hunnigan supposed she was telling the truth.

"And would you tell me why you have my friend's phone?" Hunnigan then decided to inquire before giving the detective the information she'd requested.  
"Well, ma'am, I am standing in the middle of a murder scene and this phone was found ringing under a couch, so I, too, would be very interested in knowing why it is here."


	21. Chapter 21

"No, no, Hunnigan's birthday is in September, she's a Virgo. She's like... the definition of what a Virgo personality is like," Hawke's voice came from Leon's office just as Hunnigan was about to knock on the door to announce her presence. She wasn't sure why she'd bothered coming over to the office after having dropped Seeley off at Major's. She was relatively certain Leon wouldn't know where Helena was either, but she'd held hope that maybe Helena would be here. Unsurprisingly, there was no sign of the younger woman. But now, having heard her own name mentioned, Hunnigan couldn't resist the temptation and paused by the door to Leon's office to listen in on his conversation with Hawke.

"She may not come across like it, but I bet that in private, she takes passion to a whole new level. But like, at the same time, she's the type who'd make a sex tape for educational purposes, like football players when they watch old games," Hawke continued and Hunnigan folded her arms over her abdomen and rolled her eyes. Didn't these two really have anything better to do or anything more interesting to talk about?

"And now I'm imagining her with a chalkboard, lecturing her husband about his technique while the sex tape plays in the background and she points out flaws," Leon giggle-snorted, and Hunnigan made a mental note to mildly torture him in the future for his remark.

 _Then again, it's not like he's completely wrong,_ Hunnigan admitted. She hadn't made a sex tape nor had she needed a chalkboard, but she had thoroughly educated Major on the subject until he'd gotten very good at it.

"I'd let her lecture me any time," Hawke purred.  
"I'd die happy after seeing that," Leon chuckled.

"Alas, I'm a Sagittarius, it wouldn't work in the long run."  
"You always base your relationships on astrology?" Leon snorted and Hawke scoffed at him.

"Yes, especially now because the last and the only time I went on a date with someone without finding out their star sign in advance, I made the mistake of trying to bed a Taurus, namely Helena."  
"So _that's_ why you wanted to know when Helena's birthday is," Leon realized.

"Ayep, and knowing what I know now, I can safely say I've got just the Bull for our Virgo to take her edge off, if I could figure out where He- heeeyyy, Hunnigan," Hawke corrected awkwardly when Hunnigan finally decided to put an end to their childish gossiping by making her presence known to the duo.

"Hey, have you guys seen Helena?" she asked.  
"No, we were just trying to figure out where she is, even Shepard was asking about her. Apparently she's been AWOL for over a week now," Leon said.

"A week?" Hunnigan repeated numbly.  
"Yeah... she's not answering her phone."

"I know, I've located the phone but she doesn't have it with her. All right. Okay, I'll... figure something else out," Hunnigan muttered.  
"Is there anything we can do to help?" Hawke asked.

"I doubt it. I have some idea where she might be, I just didn't realize she'd been missing for this long," Hunnigan said, turned around and headed back outside and to her car without saying goodbye, and instead turned her attention to her phone. She dialed her father's number as she sat in her car, started the engine and began heading toward New York. He didn't pick up and she left him a message explaining what her situation was and what she needed help with.

Hunnigan felt terrible for not having even noticed that Helena'd been missing, and while she also knew she had no obligation to keep looking after Helena and that she had a life of her own, she couldn't help but think that maybe things would be better now if she'd kept in touch with Helena.

 _What am I doing? Why am I doing this?_ Hunnigan asked herself as she drove, mixture of snow and rain pelting the windshield and turning the roads into slushy mess. It was a familiar route she drove back and forth rather often, but she could've done without the rain.

 _Helena needs me,_ was her answer to the question. She knew it was ridiculous to drive all the way there when she didn't even know where exactly Helena was, but she couldn't just stay at home and do nothing either. If nothing else, she hoped her father would be able to help with the search, or give her more information regarding what was happening. Who had been murdered, was Helena the only suspect, had the police found her and questioned her yet? Understandably, detective De La Cruz hadn't given her any details regarding the whole mess, and Hunnigan knew she shouldn't ask her father for those either, she shouldn't put him in that position, he was a respected sergeant and she shouldn't give anyone any reason to question him or compromise his integrity, but she didn't have a choice.

 _Helena. Needs. Me._

What Hunnigan didn't understand was why she was so quick to rush to her rescue. When Leon had called her from jail and asked her to come pick him up after he'd been arrested for being drunk and disorderly, she'd let him sit there and think about what he'd done. She'd done the same to Hawke when she'd asked Hunnigan to help her get back into the country after she'd lost her passport in Canada.

 _But when it's Helena who needs me, I run to her. Why?_ Hunnigan mused as she drove.

She hadn't really given it much thought until now. She'd always felt protective of Helena, she'd considered the young woman her protégé, and recently she'd become a very good friend.

 _Same can be said about Leon, but I'm not willing to commit atrocities just to get him out of trouble,_ Hunnigan thought.

And that was true, when it came to Helena, Hunnigan wasn't above using and abusing what power she had to ensure Helena would stay out of trouble, and most disturbingly, she wasn't afraid of risking her own reputation and her career, her life's work, to protect Helena. When the incident at Tall Oaks had happened, Hunnigan had _known_ Helena was lying to her about Leon having a lead. Had Hunnigan done the right thing, she would've told Leon to arrest Helena for treason then and there. But she had chosen to let Helena go, she'd chosen to trust her, she'd chosen to compromise her integrity and she'd paid for it, she'd gotten reprimanded, she'd been under investigation because of her actions back then, the committee had considered her an accomplice, and it wasn't like they were wrong.

Hunnigan had never mentioned this to Helena or Leon because she didn't want their gratitude or concern, but now when she thought about everything she'd willingly put herself through just to make sure Helena would be all right, she couldn't understand herself. Hell, right now she was driving to New York trying to find Helena and figure out a way to help her get away with murder (the most disturbing part about all that being the fact that she _would_ do everything in her power to help Helena even if it turned out she had committed the murder). Why?

 _Because I love her._

Hunnigan blinked in surprise at the words.

 _I love her. Oh, good God, I love her,_ she repeated mentally, an odd and indescribable feeling taking over her chest. It was partly fear and anxiety brought on by the realization and that because of it, she'd need to re-evaluate a lot of things about herself and her recent actions, personally and professionally. But mostly, it was a warm feeling of her heart figuratively swelling when she thought about Helena.

 _I'm in love with Helena Harper. Jesus Christ, how did this happen?_ Hunnigan scoffed at herself, then scoffed again at the stupid question. She knew exactly how and when this had been set in motion, she'd just been intentionally ignoring the obvious signs until she couldn't anymore.

It had been back when they'd shared a sleeping bag at the cabin. Helena had been having a nightmare, she'd cried in her sleep and kept repeating the phrase "I'm helping" with the tiniest, weakest and most heartbreaking voice Hunnigan had ever heard. Hunnigan hadn't known if she should wake her or not, but before she'd had a chance to debate it further, Helena had whimpered something incoherent and pressed herself against Hunnigan, seeking comfort and safety, and she'd been more than happy to provide. Helena had been fragile and vulnerable in a way Hunnigan didn't think was possible for the tough young woman to be.

She'd held Helena, and as she had done so, she'd felt something warm spill within her when Helena had nuzzled into the hollow of her throat and held onto Hunnigan. She'd felt an overwhelming need to comfort her, to erase her pain and protect her. She'd felt a certain kind of sadness when she'd felt all the raised scar tissue on Helena's skin because it was so wrong and so unfair that someone as young as her would have had to suffer so much pain in such a short time.

What Hunnigan felt now was a frantic urge to find Helena and bring her home.

 _It's not just that Helena needs me, I need Helena, I need her home, safe and sound,_ she thought, and then the screen on her dashboard changed to display a notification which drew her attention.

 _Incoming call Garrett Del Rey._

Hunnigan thumbed the answer-button on the steering wheel. "Hi, dad."

"Hey, kitten. How's the drive?"  
"Slushy," Hunnigan answered, appreciative of her father's concern but having no patience for pleasantries. "Do you have anything you can tell me?"

"Yeah, um, we found your friend, but..."  
"But what?" Hunnigan demanded, and during the few seconds of silence a slew of unpleasant mental images and scenarios raced through her mind.

Maybe they'd found her in a dead in a ditch somewhere and Hunnigan would need to go to the morgue to ID her. Maybe they'd found her alive but she'd confessed to committing the murder. Maybe she'd killed herself. Hunnigan sighed deeply as she worked to dispel the all too vivid mental image of Helena sitting in her car with a gaping hole in her head.

 _Jesus Christ, stop it, just stop,_ she told herself internally.

"Is she okay?" Hunnigan asked her father.  
"She's alive," Garrett avoided the crux of the question.

"Dad, please, just tell me what is happening!"  
"It doesn't look good. You're gonna want to get her a really good lawyer."

* * *

Whenever people were asked to describe anger and fury, it was always associated with the color red. Red hot fury, boiling and burning, scalding those that came in contact with it. But for Helena, it went beyond red, it was white-hot. She'd heard people describe getting so angry they black out, but that too was different for her. Technically, she did black out when the fury overwhelmed her, she genuinely could not remember what she'd said or done, but it was never dark, never red. It was a little white moment, like something just swept over her and erased everything until there was nothing but a sterile blank canvas.

It was what had happened in Afghanistan when she'd defended herself and what was left of her team. It was what had happened when she'd shot Deborah's abusive boyfriend. It was what had happened when she'd killed Simmons. And of all those things, she couldn't remember the details, not completely, just pieces after she'd been prodded about the incidents later. Deborah's boyfriend had done her the favor of being very detailed in his testimony in court, Leon's report regarding the Tall Oaks-incident had helped put together what had gone down with Simmons exactly, and as for Afghanistan... well, Jane did like to exaggerate, but the base of the story helped somewhat, even if Helena still didn't remember all of it. Frankly, those memories she was glad to see gone.

Helena "came to" at a diner, having no idea how she'd gotten there. She remembered she'd gone to New York to see how the trial would go, and she'd followed Good, confronted her, and then... blank.

"Listen, you've been sitting here for hours with that same cup, you're gonna have to order something or the cook's gonna throw you out," a waitress informed Helena.  
"Sure, okay, uhm..." she muttered, and as she went to unwrap her hand from around the mug, she realized her knuckles were bruised and hurting. "I'll have the double-dog and a cola... and a refill, thanks," she muttered.

"All right then," the waitress said and headed back behind the counter after refilling Helena's coffee from the pot she'd held in her hand.

"Ow," Helena mumbled to herself after leaning her chin to her palm and realizing her face hurt. She turned to look at her warped reflection from the metallic napkin dispenser at the end of her table. The underside of her left eye was dark purple but there didn't seem to be any noticeable swelling. She also had a small cut on the side of her nose, a large bruise on her jaw, and a stinging split on her lower lip.

 _Don't bother taking your rings off, Good. It won't make a difference._

Helena felt herself recoil when the memory of saying that came to her.

"You okay? You look like you've been in some fights," the waitress commented as she returned with Helena's meal.  
"Yeah, but you should see that truck's face," Helena jested, hoping it would be enough to avoid any follow-up questions. The waitress leaned down and put her hand over Helena's forearm.

"Listen, if there's a reason you don't want to go home, just say the word. I know someone who can help," she said in a quiet voice, and Helena frowned, not understanding what she meant. The waitress dug into her apron and produced a card which she then pressed into Helena's hand.

"I know it's scary, but you're not alone," she said, patted Helena's forearm and returned to work.  
"Oh," Helena exhaled slowly when she looked at the card. It contained the name and contact information of a battered women's shelter.

 _Look at that, once again someone hurries to help you because you're so pathetic they feel sorry for you. Aren't you even ashamed?_ her grandmother's voice asked, and Helena sighed.

She didn't debate with it but stood up instead and headed toward the bathroom, thinking she'd need to assess the extent of the damage done to her face from an actual mirror. As she was nearing a booth, she heard a wolf whistle which she ignored.

 _Only whores and dogs turn to look when someone whistles at them._ That was the only piece of actual advice Helena remembered getting from her grandmother. She couldn't remember what had inspired the lesson, just the advice itself.

"Yo, babe, what's your hurry?" the man who Helena assumed was also the one who'd whistled at her called out as she was about to pass the booth.  
"Leave me alone," she sighed.

"Come on, now, I'd rather we were friends, I can be really friendly," he said and took it upon himself to slap her ass as she walked by. He laughed, the kind of a filthy laugh a person who thinks their boring double entendres and lewd remarks are funny would laugh. The kind of a laugh Helena had heard often from Kassandra Good as she'd worked her name into suggestive comments, none of them clever or even remotely funny, especially to Helena who had never wanted to be "a Good girl".

His laugh was cut short by Helena who in an instant turned around, grabbed the back of his neck and shoved him forward until his head hit the table, utensils clattering loudly as they fell onto the tile floor from the force of the impact. She then yanked him up only to slam him back down again and again, the porcelain plate cracking under the force of the hits, the hot mess of gravy and mashed potatoes clinging to his skin, the stream of blood running from his split lips and broken nose giving the remnants of food on his face and on the table a pink shade.

"I can be really friendly too," Helena grunted through clenched teeth, slamming his head down once more before reaching to grab one of the forks still left on the table. She felt herself getting lost in the white fury, the pleas of her victim becoming nothing but static, the commands to stop from outside drowned in the loud ringing in her ears which also muted the voice of sense within her, no one and nothing capable of reasoning with her and getting her to stop anymore, she was past the point of no return, lost in the little white moment.

Helena was about to drive the fork down with all the strength she had, aiming toward the man's eye, the force of the impact if successful undoubtedly lethal. Before she could, she felt something hit her back and a fraction of a second later, the muscles in her body spasmed, the cramp making her feel like her entire body was on fire and locked into pain, keeping her from moving, the force of it dropping her onto the floor where she lay rigidly until the current being led to her body stopped and she lost consciousness.


	22. Chapter 22

_While you're here there'll be no drugs, no alcohol, no porn, no gambling. Keep a magazine inserted in your weapon at all times, weapon on safe, and keep your handgun and two magazines on you at all times when moving through the area because you know that if something goes down, you're going to burn through ammo fast. In case of a rocket attack, hit the deck, cover your ears, wait two minutes. Welcome to Kandahar."_

"Maxima?" Helena muttered, still half asleep, the words of her friend's ghost echoing clear as a bell through her ears.

 _"_ _Those fucking terrorist scum have the nerve to call us cowards when all they do is leave a bomb and run away like the fucking cockroaches they are and then they wait to ambush the rescuers too. And I'm supposed to be understanding to their cause? No. Fuck that. Boo-fucking-hoo, I don't fucking care, if I could, I'd happily go back and I'd plant a big fucking bomb and blow up the whole fucking country."_

"Jane, enough," Helena sighed and while knowing her eyes were closed, in her mind she could still see herself clearly stepping out of the barracks, she could see her uniformed legs, her dusty boots, she could see herself trip over the doorstep and that's when she jolted awake, her heart thumping loudly in her throat when the anticipation of pain from the fall and the sudden startle of very vividly feeling herself fall scared her.

"...what... is this? Where am I?" she breathed heavily, realizing she'd been half asleep, that she'd only dreamt being back in Afghanistan, dreamt falling. She wasn't in Kandahar, she wasn't at home, she was in a holding cell, surrounded by stained white stone, her shoulder blades, back, and buttocks aching from having slept on the hard bench which served as the only seat (excluding the steel toilet in the corner of the room) available in the cell.

"Well... at least I'm alone," she muttered as she sat up, unaware of the string Hunnigan had pulled to make that happen. Sighing, Helena leaned to her knees and buried her face in her hands. Her entire body felt a little weak after the shot from the taser, but at least they hadn't pepper sprayed her. She'd experienced both during her training at the police academy (and again during her DSO-training, with the added bonus of being waterboarded, the experience much more harrowing than she'd expected from something that looked so simple, but when the water had forced its way into her lungs, she'd panicked, broken free from the restraints with the sheer power of adrenaline kicking in and telling her it was a fight or die-situation, and ran out of the room) and given the choice, she would pick getting tasered over getting pepper sprayed any day of the week.

"I'm in so much trouble. Hunnigan's gonna be so mad at me," Helena muttered and without any warning, burst into tears over the thought. She wasn't sad because she was in trouble, probably going to jail or at the very least going to spend the rest of her life paying off the expenses she'd inevitably have to pay to the guy she'd assaulted at the diner; she was sad because she felt like she'd let Hunnigan down, and that was the worst thing about the whole mess.

Helena sniffled and wiped her face when she heard the lock on the door rattle as an officer worked to open it.

"Good morning!" a detective wearing a dark red collared shirt and black jeans greeted as she pulled the door open. Her light brown hair was cut into a short pixie style, swept to the left over her forehead. She looked rather friendly, leading Helena to presume she was typically the one playing the role of good cop.

"I think you and I need to have a little talk," she said and Helena scoffed amusedly.  
"I was always told not to talk to strangers."

"I'm detective Tierra De La Cruz, this is my partner Clarke Lewis," she introduced herself and him, and looking over at the bald guy who looked like the stereotypical tough "seen it all, doesn't care anymore, just wants to retire"-cop whose type would be played by Bruce Willis in a movie, Helena was certain she'd gotten her assessment correct, De La Cruz would be the good cop in this scenario.

"Come on, young lady, you've got a lot of 'splainin' to do," Lewis said, gestured impatiently with his hand until she stood up. He then gripped Helena's arm just above the elbow to make sure she wouldn't do anything stupid like try running away as he and De La Cruz went to have her properly booked before escorting her to the interview room.

"So... you wanna tell us why you assaulted that guy at the diner?" De La Cruz opened after Helena had sat down on the opposite side of the table.  
"He assaulted me first," Helena shrugged one shoulder and told them about the slap on her ass.

"And you don't think you overreacted?" Lewis (whom Helena was mentally referring to as Bruce Willis now) asked from his spot by the door where he stood with his arms folded.  
"No," Helena said unapologetically because she really didn't. She was glad the cops who'd been present at the diner had stopped her before she'd killed the bastard, but she felt like he'd deserved a lesson. She sighed in exasperation.

"Look, let's just get this over with. He assaulted me, I retaliated and as a result he's the injured party here, he's gonna sue, I'll plead guilty and everyone's happy, so let's just move this along."  
"He's not interested in pressing charges, and the ADA isn't interested in that either because he's got bigger fish to fry with you," De La Cruz said.

"He's not?" Helena frowned.  
"I was surprised too," the detective agreed, and Helena couldn't understand at all. Then her focus shifted to the latter part of what the detective had said.

"What do you mean the ADA has bigger fish to fry?" she frowned.  
"Do you recognize this?" De La Cruz asked after digging into the folder she was holding and pulled out a photo of a phone.

"It's mine," Helena said after taking a closer look and noticing the familiar crack on the edge of the screen.  
"Do you know where we found it?"

"I didn't even know I'd lost it."  
"Do you know Kassandra Good?" Lewis asked and Helena swallowed hard.

"Uh, yeah, she was my drill sergeant when I enlisted in the army in 2006."  
"Did you get along with her?" he continued.

"About as well as anyone does with their drill sergeant. Once, during bunk inspection she messed my bed up on purpose and ordered me to make it again thirteen times, but that was just a part of the hazing tradition, I guess," Helena shrugged.

"So you never had any problems with her?"  
"Like I said, she was my drill sergeant so it's not like she went easy on me, but that's a part of the training."

"Uh-huh," De La Cruz said and Helena could easily notice she was preparing to switch to bad cop. She dug out more photos from the folder and placed them on the table.  
"So, I'm guessing you had no reason to do this to her," De La Cruz said and slid the photos over the table and closer to Helena.

 _Oh, I had plenty of reason,_ Helena thought, merely glancing at the photos, not taking the time to look properly. It was obvious someone had beaten Good up properly, for all Helena knew, she'd done it, but she sure as hell wouldn't confess to it.

"Is she saying that I did?" Helena asked and pushed the photos back before instinctively moving to cover her bruised knuckles with her equally bruised other hand, aware of how pointless it was to do so, the detectives had seen them, hell, they (along with the bruises on her face) had been thoroughly photographed when she'd been booked.

"She's not saying anything, she's dead," Lewis informed her.  
"Wait, she's dead?"

Lewis had already taken a long inhale to speak again when the door was shoved open, the side of it impacting into his elbow and he muttered curses under his breath at the pain.

"You, shut up," the woman who'd entered the room said, pointing her finger at Helena before turning to point at De La Cruz. "You, arrest her properly and get her to central booking so we can move this along," she then ordered.

 _It's the woman from the painting,_ Helena thought, remembering the painting of the pirate queen she'd seen at Nolan's apartment during the New Year's party. Only, the woman ordering everyone around wasn't wearing a blue bandana and a large hat over it, instead, she wore a black pinstripe suit and dark blue shirt with it, a long black coat hanging over her forearm, a briefcase in the same hand. Helena noticed she did have the earrings she'd seen on the woman in the painting, undoubtedly a family heirloom.

 _That's Hunnigan's mother, what is she doing here?_

"I thought you'd retired, Isabela," Lewis grumbled, still rubbing the sore spot on his elbow.  
"Gotta take a case on now and then to keep my teeth sharp, I would be a lousy shark without those," Isabela smirked as De La Cruz gestured for Helena to stand up.

"Helena Harper, you're under arrest for the murder of Kassandra Good, you have the right to remain silent," she began as she cuffed Helena's wrists, continuing the listing of her rights as she walked her out of the room.  
"Sit tight and keep your mouth shut, I'll be over to see you as soon as I can," Isabela told Helena.

"Yes, ma'am," she muttered an answer as she was being walked through the precinct. Her heart leapt when she saw Hunnigan standing the lobby. She was dressed in a long leather jacket, a navy blue hoodie and jeans underneath, a gray scarf loosely wrapped around her neck. For a moment, all Helena could do was stare at her almost not believing she was here. Hunnigan was speaking to a man with black hair and a neat beard, the gold-colored sergeant's shield attached to his belt telling Helena that he was undoubtedly the one in charge here.

"Seriously, kitten? You had to drag her into this?" he sighed in exasperation, nodding toward Isabela.  
"You're the one who told me to get a good lawyer," Hunnigan said innocently.

"Hunnigan, what are you-" Helena began to say and took a step toward her but detective De La Cruz yanked her back before she had a chance to go to her.  
"It'll be all right, I'll see you after the arraignment, okay? Just, do as Isabela says," Hunnigan said as De La Cruz kept walking Helena out.

"You sure do have friends in high places," the detective scoffed.  
Helena agreed, even if she didn't understand how and why she had gotten so lucky.


	23. Chapter 23

Hunnigan couldn't say that she was proud of what she'd done to get the man Helena had assaulted to drop the idea of pressing charges. When she'd found out his name and phone number and texted him something suggestive, he'd quickly responded like the horny idiot she'd expected him to be, and he'd kept messaging with her even after she'd done the whole "oops, wrong number"-routine once she'd gotten him to practically welcome the Trojan horse she'd sent him. She had to give him credit, though; he'd been severely injured but he still kept trying to bed someone who had, as far as he knew, accidentally sent a sext to the wrong number, that level of horny would've been impressive had it not been so nasty.

She'd expected to find nothing than the odd dick pics she could use to extort him with, she could reason that he might end up getting labeled a sex offender if she posted those in his name across his social media profiles. Then she'd found the video of him masturbating with what she assumed had to be a custom fleshlight because it had been made to look like a clown's head. When she'd threatened to expose that, he'd rushed promise he would not be pressing charges (and sworn he'd never catcall a woman again).

That, surprisingly, had been the easy part. The next would be much trickier, and it was something Hunnigan had to let her mother handle, whether she liked it or not... and whether her father liked it or not. The whole reason Isabela had retired and rather focused on teaching law than practicing it in the first place was because her defending the people her husband was trying to put away was beginning to seriously strain their relationship. Hunnigan did feel like she'd somehow stabbed her father in the back by going to Isabela about this, but Helena needed the help, and Hunnigan had no intention of letting her fate fall into the hands of an overworked public defender. Besides, she knew her mother well enough to know that she, much like Hunnigan herself, liked to win, and after all this time teaching rather than practicing, she wouldn't be rusty, she would be ravenous for a win. Frankly, it was beginning to look like Helena definitely needed a ravenous shark to stay out of jail.

"How does the defendant plead?"  
"Not guilty, your honor."

"Any thoughts on bail, mister Rutherford?" the judge inquired from the ADA.

"The people request that the defendant be remanded in custody, she is being charged with second degree murder, she has no ties to the community, and because of the opportunities to flee the country guaranteed by her job, we consider her an extreme flight risk."

"My client shouldn't even be here, the only piece of evidence the prosecution has tying my client to the murder is her phone which they discovered at the crime scene. You can't say how or why it ended up there, my client could've been having tea with her old army buddy for all we know."

"There is also the nine-one-one call about a disturbance at the victim's apartment, and the defendant's obvious injuries which could only have resulted from a physical fight."

"There are no witnesses placing my client at the scene of the crime, not at the time of the nine-one-one-call, and not before or after that either. As for her injuries, again, nothing states beyond doubt that she sustained them at Kassandra Good's apartment or even during the same day, she could've gotten those anywhere. My client is a highly regarded agent working for the Division of Security Operations, she is-"

"Oh, so just because someone is a DSO agent, they should get away with murder? I hate to break it to you, but contrary to what everyone seems to think, DSO agents are not above the law!" Rutherford interrupted, scoffing in disbelief as he grew more frustrated and impatient..

"All right, I've heard enough. The bail is set at one million. Miss Harper, you will surrender your passport and you will not leave the state, do you understand these conditions?" the judge asked her.

Helena was about to inquire how the hell was she supposed to work from here and where was she supposed to stay if she wasn't allowed to leave the state, but then she realized it wasn't like she could afford the bail anyway.

"I understand, your honor," she responded and the judge proceeded to schedule the rest of the trial.

"Sit tight," Isabela said to Helena when the bailiff came to escort Helena back to the cell.  
"I'll try not to go anywhere," Helena offered a wry smirk.

After Helena had been escorted out, Hunnigan exited the courtroom as well and made a phone call to her brother.

"Seriously? I love that song but I don't think it's worth a million," Nolan chuckled when Hunnigan offered a deal to him; she would sign over her rights as the composer and he could use her work as he saw fit, and in return he would loan her a million.

"You've been obsessing over the song because you're envious that you didn't compose it, and the next best thing to actually having composed it is to own the copyright to it, so just spare me your bullshit. Besides, it's a loan, you'll get it back, the song is just an incentive and interest," Hunnigan said in exasperation.

"I hate you so much for knowing me so well. Fine, I'll have the money sent to you as soon as possible."  
"I need it immediately. Oh, and I also need another favor."

"What now, you want the fillings from my fuckin' teeth?" Nolan scoffed.  
"I want to use your New York apartment for a few weeks, maybe longer, I don't know yet."

"What the hell is going on, are you hiding from a hitman and preparing to leave the country or something?" Nolan asked and nothing in his tone implied he'd made the comment in jest. Hunnigan smiled.  
"No, it's to help a friend," she said, refusing to go into further detail. Nolan sighed deeply.

"Fine. Mom has the keys to the New York apartment.  
"Thank you. I'll owe you one."

"More than one."

* * *

"I've never lost a case unless my client has undermined me, so if you want to stay out of prison, don't lie to me, and definitely don't give statements without me," Isabela said sternly as she sat down with Helena while they waited for the paperwork for Helena's bail to be processed.

"Understood, ma'am," Helena muttered and Isabela glanced over with a quirked eyebrow, scanning for signs of sarcasm, but nothing about Helena's demeanor suggested she was being cocky, just genuinely defaulting to overly respectful politeness which Isabela presumed was the result of a strict upbringing and years served in the military.

"Aren't you gonna ask me if I did it?" Helena inquired.

"No, because I already know you didn't. If you had, we wouldn't be having this conversation because I would be busy making damn sure you wouldn't ever be able to get within an inch of my little girl," Isabela responded. Helena frowned deeply and remained silent for a long moment before finally asking how Isabela knew she was innocent.

"You may kill out of anger or in self defense, but you're not a murderer, that's not the feeling I get from you at all, and believe me, I know that feeling, I've sat next to actual murderers often enough. At most we're looking at manslaughter here," Isabela said dismissively. "So, in your own words, what happened?"

"I went over there to confront her about something that happened while I was in the army and she was training me. It escalated into a brawl."  
"And?"

"...and I... blacked out. I have this thing... there's something wrong with me, when I get angry enough, I just black out, I don't remember what I did. I may have killed her," Helena confessed in a tiny, defeated voice.  
"What were you arguing about? Why here? Why now?" Isabela continued her questioning relentlessly, not buying for a second that Helena had randomly come into town for no particular reason.

Isabela already had an idea of what Helena's connection to Good would have to be considering Good had contacted Isabela not long ago and stated she wanted Isabela to represent her. She'd turned Good down after a two minute conversation. The charges alone were a red flag, but what really broke the camel's back was the, for lack of a better word, aura of evil, wickedness and depravity Isabela had sensed the moment she'd stepped into Good's presence. Despite her name, the woman was evil. Irony sure was a dick.

"Nothing big, she just..." Helena mumbled, and Isabela exhaled agitatedly through her nose.  
"I told you not to lie to me."

"If I tell you the truth, you can't tell anyone about it, especially not Ingrid. I don't want her to know just how fucked up I am, okay? She's the only real friend I have left in the world, and I don't want to lose her," Helena muttered.

"Everything we discuss is confidential, if I hear something that might help your case, I'd rather we use it but I can't force you to disclose anything you don't want to. So, what happened?" Isabela asked once more.

Helena fell silent, sucked on her teeth and repeatedly took a deep breath as if to begin speaking but then changed her mind about it. Isabela didn't rush her, just waited for the obviously nervous and reluctant young woman to speak up.

"Sergeant Good sexually assaulted me almost daily for the entire duration of my basic training. I won't go into detail because I will not repeat this to anyone no matter what, I'd rather go to jail for the murder."

Isabela nodded, having already figured out as much; it was hardly something people were eagerly lining up to talk about.

The records of Good's trial were sealed (which was something Isabela had found out after trying to access them recently) and even with the promise of no one ever finding out the details of it, the ADA hadn't been able to convince people to testify. Isabela had to wonder just how bad the things Good did must've been for no one (of what had to be dozens if not hundreds) to be willing to even talk about it. Discussing such matters wasn't easy, of course, but considering how many victims there had to be, the amount of silence seemed disproportionate.

"You confront her, you fight, you lose your phone during the fight, but you don't remember her condition when you left the apartment," Isabela recounted.  
"I told you, I don't, I don't even remember leaving there," Helena insisted.

"All right. Do you feel up to looking at the crime scene photos with me, see if it'll jog your memory?"

"Sure, I'm not squeamish," Helena sighed and Isabela opened the folder. There was a lot of blood pooled around Good's head and caked to her hair, lips, and cheek, but there were no visible wounds as far as Isabela could make out. Good's head, however, looked somewhat deformed and oddly flat, someone had literally caved her face in.

Isabela went to look at the list of things Helena had been wearing when she'd been arrested.

"Brown leather boots," she read out loud and went to look for the photos of said items. "Did you wear these and only these the time you've been here?" she asked and held up a picture of Helena's boots.  
"Yeah," she nodded.

"There's no blood," Isabela muttered as she leaned in to take a closer look. The labs would have to confirm it, but she couldn't see any. If Helena had been at the crime scene during the murder, there was no way she would've managed to walk out of there without getting blood on her shoes, there were plenty of obvious smudges of it on the floor, leading to the bathroom where whoever had killed Good had washed their shoes since there were no prints heading outside. The prints were too messy to make proper comparisons to Helena's boots and their soles, but there should've been blood or water stains on them, and as far as Isabela could see, Helena's boots were immaculate if a little worn.

"You ladies mind continuing this elsewhere?" an officer asked. "Your bail has been posted, you can go," he then said.  
"My... how?" Helena stammered.  
"Does it matter?" he shrugged.

"I'll wait for you at the entrance. Oh, and just a heads up, there's a lot of press out front, don't make any comments, if someone must speak, I'll do it, got it?" Isabela said as Helena got up and went to be processed.

"Yes, ma'am," the young woman responded somewhat sheepishly. Isabela gathered the police reports and the crime scene photos and headed outside as well. She wasn't at all surprised to see her daughter in the waiting area, impatiently pacing back and forth.

"So, I take it this is the same friend you rushed to save on Christmas."  
"What of it?" Hunnigan asked agitatedly.  
"Nothing," Isabela shrugged.

Contrary to what she knew her daughter liked to think of her, she wasn't rigid and unimaginative, and she was certainly more perceptive than what Ingrid gave her credit for. She didn't know what had gone so wrong in her relationship with her daughter, why Ingrid's idea of her mother was so different from what she was like, but she'd given up trying to figure it out. She knew she could be blunt and tough, but she'd never said or done anything just for the purpose of hurting Ingrid's feelings or criticizing her for nothing. Regardless of her intentions, however, she knew not to try and discuss Helena with her; Ingrid was already defensive about it, they would just end up arguing.

Isabela couldn't help but smile, though, when she saw the way Ingrid was around the younger woman as she walked through the gates carrying what little of her belongings she was allowed to take back with her in a plastic bag. Ingrid went to her and pulled her into a hug before even taking a moment to greet her, and Helena's arms wrapped around Ingrid's midsection instinctively, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

 _Now, kiss,_ Isabela encouraged mentally, but they didn't; instead Helena slowly pulled away from the hug and asked why was Ingrid here and how had she managed to bail her out.

"I'll explain later, but for now, let's just get out of here," Ingrid said with a faint smile, her hand still gripping Helena's.

 _Oh, kitten, you two are so in love with each other it's almost painful to watch this because you're both such oblivious idiots and I know better than to tell you,_ Isabela mused with a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, amazed at how the two had not realized their feelings for each other when she, who hadn't seen them together for more than a few seconds just now, could easily see it.

The moment they stepped outside, they were surrounded by eager reporters clamoring loudly, flashes going off as they tried getting photos, but Ingrid thought fast, Isabela noticed; she shoved her hand deep into the pocket of her long coat and pulled the hem over Helena's head to hide and shield her like she were a wounded bird under her wing.


	24. Chapter 24

Nolan's New York apartment was a loft with an open floor plan, a long counter separating the kitchen from the space which served as the dining room, which then ended at the back of a couch that split the space into a living room. The bedroom and his home office (which served mainly as a spot where he stored his awards and some paperwork he never needed but couldn't throw out either for legal reasons until a certain period of time had passed) were on the mezzanine. Contrary to his large apartment in D.C., Nolan's loft was actually quite cozy. The exposed brick walls and warm brown tones of the interior design made Helena feel more comfortable than the almost sterile look Nolan's D.C. apartment had.

"I thought you might want to take a shower," Hunnigan suggested after they'd settled in, handing Helena a towel and guiding her to the bathroom, and she had no objections. She couldn't remember the last time she'd showered, all she knew was her deodorant had failed long ago, the skin of her face felt unpleasantly grimy, and she felt anything but fresh overall.

As she scrubbed herself clean, she discovered new sore spots on her body. She stared at her faint reflection on the glass wall of the shower, and she could easily make out the large dark bruises on her torso and sides.

"What the hell happened?" she asked herself, trying to force herself to remember more of the details.

She'd punched Good almost as soon as she'd opened the door, she'd knocked her to the ground and straddled her chest, using her right hand to grip the front of Good's shirt and her left to deliver frantic punches to her face while screaming something akin to "Fuck you, fuck you, you fucking piece of shit! _"_ at her. Good had jabbed the heel of her palm into Helena's jaw and shoved her to the side, getting to her feet and she'd kicked Helena in the torso when she'd been on her knees on the floor, trying to get up.

 _That's when I lost my phone,_ she remembered when the vivid sound of it clattering on the floor rang back in her ears. The force of the kick to her abdomen must've made the phone slip from her jacket pocket.

 _She dragged me up and punched my face, her rings split my lip... and then I think she threw me out, literally,_ Helena recalled, the bruises on her torso the result of her landing on and then rolling down the stairs leading to Good's apartment.

 _I don't think I could have killed her, I couldn't even win the fight,_ Helena frowned. As much as she hated admitting it, it was becoming more and more evident that she'd been no match to Kassandra Good in hand-to-hand-combat... not that it was exactly surprising considering Good's long career in the military and her experience as a drill sergeant; the bitter truth of it was that Good had been a very talented soldier.

 _Too bad she was a monster and used everything she knew only to make some people's lives hell,_ Helena thought angrily.  
 _You really are an ungrateful brat. If it weren't for me and everything I taught you, you wouldn't even know what to fantasize about when you imagine fucking Hunnigan._

"Shut up," Helena growled.  
 _Come on now, you love the mental image of her on her knees, face down, ass up, just waiting for you to fuck her brains out. But if it weren't for me, you wouldn't even know how to go about that. You're welcome._

"You're dead, shut up!" Helena yelled and slammed the side of her fist against the tiled wall. The angle was a little off and instead of just smashing the meaty part of her palm essentially painlessly, she managed to hit the bony part of her wrist as well. The sharp hot pain shot up her hand and spread inside her wrist, momentarily numbing the side of her hand completely before it settled into a steady stinging and throbbing ache.

"Fuck," she grunted as she gripped her wrist and squeezed it tightly as if doing so would somehow make the pain go away. It didn't. Then the tears came. Not of physical pain but of anguish over being the way she was.  
"I don't want to think that way," she hissed through her sobs, the saliva her heavy and agitated breaths blew from between her clenched teeth and the tears mottled in with the hot water pelting her head.

She didn't want to think that way about anyone, let alone of Hunnigan. It was lewd, disrespectful, disgusting, perverted.  
 _And so are you,_ Good whispered in the form of an intrusive thought.

"Fuck you," Helena spat, rinsed off once more and shut the water off. "Fuck. You," she repeated angrily, stepped out of the shower and began toweling herself off.

As she bent over to dry her legs, an all too vivid mental image engulfed her mind and for a few moments she could've sworn she was bent over Good's desk, the sergeant's hand gripping the back of her neck and pinning her down, her face pressed against the hard and worn wooden surface, the light of the desklamp hitting her eyes in the most unpleasant way. She could smell the sickening stench of sugared coffee that had dried in the bottom of the mug on Good's desk.

 _Now, be a Good girl, I promise this won't hurt... for too long._

Good's breath made its way across the back of Helena's neck and into her nostrils, the stuffy smell of cigarettes and fruity gum that had lost its flavor clinging to it, the smell somehow getting lodged Helena's sinuses so badly she swore she could smell it for days after.

 _I see blood. Oh, was this your first time?_

"You're dead," Helena said, squeezing her eyes shut tighter to banish the image, and even after it was gone, she could still feel the phantom pain of the nightstick pressing roughly against her, the painful pressure of it bruising her cervix, the sharp and burning cutting sensation crossing her lower abdomen as she could still clearly feel Good twist and poke her insides.

 _I outrank you, and for as long as I am your superior officer, I can destroy you, so I suggest you fall in line and don't even think about mentioning this to anyone once you limp out of here. It would make me sad to lose you, pet. You're my favorite._

"What was the fucking point of it all, anyway?" Helena whispered to herself as she waited for the unpleasant memory to fade at least enough for her to exit the bathroom without shaking and feeling like she was about to choke on the air she was breathing.

She'd asked Good that, repeatedly as she'd kept punching her face, and Good had laughed through her split lips and bloody teeth. She'd laughed. Helena's need to know why she'd been hurt and humiliated had amused Good. Her anger over it, her desperation for some justification, for some reason why Good had done it, why her, all of her pain... all of it had just been funny to Good.

"She laughed!" Helena yelled furiously, and once again found herself punching the nearest surface because the hot tension in her arms wouldn't go away unless she found an outlet for the rage.

"Helena?" Hunnigan's voice tore her back into reality, and she drew in a shaky breath, then pulled her fist out from the hole it had made on the bathroom door, the ragged edges of the splintered wood digging into her skin, deepening the already bleeding wounds it had caused during the initial impact.

* * *

After handing Helena a towel and directing her to the bathroom, Hunnigan sat on the couch and leaned back, raising her forearm to rest over her eyes. She blew out a long exasperated breath.

"Here," Isabela said and nudged Hunnigan's arm. She sat up and accepted the full glass of scotch her mother handed her.  
"Thank you," she sighed and took a drink.

"So, what's her story?" Isabela asked and sat next to Hunnigan.  
"Parents died in a murder-suicide-kind of a situation when she was a kid... or that's what I presume based on what she shared before. She and her little sister were raised by their alcoholic grandmother... and her little sister passed away last summer. She was in the army and then a cop before doing a stint in the Secret Service from where I headhunted her for the DSO," Hunnigan gave a brief history, leaving out the details of Helena's many discretions.

"Sounds like she's had a tough life," Isabela said.  
"She has, this murder-charge is the last thing she needs, which is why I called you. We may not always get along but I would never disrespect you by underestimating you, and I needed the best."

"You don't need to butter me up, kitten, I've already agreed to take the case," Isabela chuckled.  
"So... what do you think happened?"

"My client is innocent, and for once I genuinely mean it," Isabela smirked.  
"But she was there."

"And I was at the World Trade Center a few hours before the planes hit, doesn't mean I'm guilty of anything."  
"Wow, you should definitely use that analogy with the jury," Hunnigan drawled sarcastically.

"There won't be a jury because there won't be a trial, I'll figure this out and Rutherford's gonna have to drop the charges, trust me."  
"I wish I shared your confidence," Hunnigan sighed deeply and took a long drink from her glass.

"Look, that girl's been through a lot, and she didn't come out of it smelling like roses, but she's no murderer. That said, she's definitely not mentally stable either, you need to be careful."

"And you're basing your opinion on what, having known her for five minutes?" Hunnigan asked, realizing very well that getting so defensive about it was only speaking volumes to prove Isabela's point and giving away the fact that Hunnigan knew Isabela was right. She hated being so obvious.

"I know what a mental health problem looks like, need I remind you of what your father went through after 9/11?" Isabela said and Hunnigan sighed deeply.  
"No, you don't," she said.

Her father, like many other officers, had struggled with PTSD and survivor's guilt, he'd been depressed and suicidal, but the difference between him and Helena was that he'd admitted it and accepted the help offered to him. Hunnigan knew Helena well enough to know she would never admit she was not all right. Hunnigan told as much to her mother and Isabela regarded her for a long time, slowly taking a drink from her glass, swallowed the scotch and sucked on her teeth before finally speaking her mind.

"She's more than just a friend, isn't she?"

Hunnigan didn't have a response she was willing to give, but thankfully, she didn't need to come up with a convincing lie either because before she had a chance to even react, she heard a loud crash from upstairs. Hunnigan put her glass away and got to her feet, hurrying up the steps, Isabela following her.

"Helena?" she called out, paused to knock on the door and pulled on it gingerly after waiting a moment.

Helena stood right behind the door, a mixture of moisture from the shower and a thin sheet of sweat glistening on her naked pale skin, her hand balled into a fist, the white of her knuckles shining through the bloody mess the ragged edges of the hole she'd punched in the door had made of her hand.

"Helena. Helena... everything's okay. Helena, you're safe," Hunnigan kept repeating calmly in an attempt to get Helena's attention. "You're in New York with me and my mom, remember? Is it okay if I touch you?"  
"No. No!" she shook her head, her wet hair roping around her neck, sticking to her skin.

"All right, I promise I won't do that unless you say it's okay. Do you know where you are?" Hunnigan inquired but Helena didn't say anything. While Hunnigan kept patiently coaxing her out of the bathroom, Isabela went to get a bottle of water from the fridge and retrieved her purse before returning upstairs. Wordlessly, she handed the bottle and a Snickers bar to Hunnigan, then pushed a single pill into her palm. Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow but didn't stop to ask what it was, that detail didn't matter right now.

Several minutes later Hunnigan finally convinced Helena to take a bite of the candy bar Isabela had brought, and she took the pill given to her. It took equally long for her to convince Helena to finally come out of the bathroom and allow Hunnigan to touch her so that she could go and wrap a towel around Helena and hold her in a half-hug as she walked her over to the bed. Hunnigan thought the episode was clearing but the moment she suggested Helena lie down, she got agitated again.

"Don't fucking touch me!"  
"I won't, I won't, I promise, okay, I promise. You're safe here with me, no one's gonna hurt you. Everything's all right, you're safe," she resorted to repeating once more and this time it didn't take quite as long to calm her down. Hunnigan supposed that whatever was in the pill Isabela had given her was responsible for Helena drifting from agitated to calm and drowsy, and agreeing to lie down.

"What did you give her?" Hunnigan asked as she pulled the blanket over Helena who was hugging a pillow to her chest, struggling to keep her eyes open.

"Xanax, never leave home without it," Isabela smirked. "Speaking of, I should head home. I have police reports to read. Will you be all right?"  
"Yes. Thank you."

"Okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Good night, kitten."  
"Good night, mom," Hunnigan said and waited for her to exit the apartment before settling to lie on the empty side of the bed.

"I don't know where you went just now, but I want you to know that you're safe with me. I will protect you from anything you could even imagine being afraid of, _mon ange,_ " Hunnigan whispered, knowing perfectly well she had very little means of backing up her bravado but still meaning every word of it.


	25. Chapter 25

_"You killed me," Deborah said, her mutated gray skin glistening underneath the light illuminating the bar she sat at. Jane was serving drinks behind the counter, jumping on one leg from a faceless customer to another, a steady stream of blood dripping from the mess of charred flesh and bone that had been her leg._

 _"The fucking potatoes!" Jane suddenly yelled and rushed over to what appeared to be the backroom._

 _"I didn't kill anyone," Helena argued with Deborah. She turned to look behind her when a loud clattering sound caught her attention. There were no players around the pool table, nor were there billiard balls on it. Instead, the elegant red cloth served as a resting place for Maxima Ibsen's upper half which had been framed with cue balls, some of the spheres cracked and their shiny surfaces stained with light blue chalk._

 _"You let me get kidnapped and infected. You let me fall. You grieve her, but not me!" Deborah yelled furiously, one of the long appendages stemming from her back lunging up and forward, then lurching down, impaling Maxima and crushing the pool table, a steady stream of cue balls pouring from the smashed table, as if it were bleeding them._

 _"Have you spared me a thought? No. Just her," Deborah sneered, punctuating her words by shaking the half a body hanging impaled on her claw, thick bloody mess dripping from it. "And yourself," Deborah then spat, shaking Maxima off, her body reduced to an unrecognizable mess as it slammed onto the floor like a dropped meatloaf, gray thick fluid oozing from it._

 _"I'm sorry," Helena cried.  
"'I'm sorry. I'm sorry,' Is that all you can say? Huh!?" Frances Harper asked as she appeared next to Helena, slapping her granddaughter so hard Helena's ear began to ring. "You disgusting, revolting, devil-child!" she yelled and hit Helena again, this time hard enough to make her lose her balance and fall to the stained and scratched wooden floor, the mess that had been Maxima covering her hands, making them sickeningly sticky. _

_"You abandoned me, you never did anything to save me. You let me die," Deborah accused and Helena finally found her fury.  
"You dare! You dare to claim I didn't save you, after all the beatings I took for you! I could've let you die, time and again, long before Simmons happened, but I didn't!" Helena yelled. _

_"She wasn't even your real sister, why should you have even cared?" Frances spat.  
"Why do you hate me so much?" Helena sobbed. _

_"Because you are a monster."  
"She's right, you know," Sergeant Good snickered from behind Helena, sitting amidst the splinters of the pool table, thick clots of blood caked to her head that looked too flat. She smiled, some of her teeth grotesquely sticking outward from her mouth, like something had tried to break free from behind them. _

_"Shut up, you're dead."  
"Honey, we're all dead here," Good laughed. "And you are a monster. You could've saved a lot of people, but you chose not to. I don't judge you for that, I would've done the same, they didn't deserve to be saved. You're a Good girl." _

_Helena got to her hands and knees, and crawled through the splinters and blood and flesh, flung herself forward and knocked Good down, straddling her and letting her hands enclose around her throat._

 _"How about_ you _be a Good girl and die?" she grunted and squeezed harder, but Good only laughed, blood and teeth spluttering from her mouth as she did._

* * *

At first, Hunnigan thought she'd managed to inhale her saliva while asleep and that it was the cause of the sudden need to cough; either that or then she'd slept with her mouth open and her throat had dried up. Then the feeling of pressure on her neck and the throbbing dull ache creeping up to her head registered and she opened her eyes.

Helena was straddling her abdomen, her hands tightening around Hunnigan's throat as she leaned down, breathing heavily through her teeth as she choked Hunnigan. She didn't waste time trying to reason with Helena, it was apparent from the glassy stare Helena had that the Xanax had worn off and she was gone again, and Hunnigan didn't have the luxury of time at her disposal; the blood and oxygen flow to her brain was being efficiently cut off, she wouldn't last much beyond ten seconds unless she managed to escape the grip.

"How about _you_ be a good girl and die," Helena grunted, and Hunnigan didn't know what she was referring to, nor did she care right now, she just needed to break free from the choke.

 _Sorry about this,_ she thought as she pushed her thumb into Helena's injured knuckle hard, hooking her fingers around the underside of Helena's wrist and yanked on it forcefully. Helena yelped in pain and let go, her fingernails leaving behind a scratch on Hunnigan's skin. When Helena focused her attention on her injured hand, Hunnigan got to her feet and began taking steps backward to put more distance between herself and Helena, coughing dryly as she retreated, the itch that felt like a ragged edge in her throat persisting despite her efforts to dispel it.

"Helena..." she managed, breathing heavily, "don't do this. I know that... whatever it is you're going through right now feels very real for you but it isn't, I promise, you're safe with me."

Helena stood still and silent for a long moment before slowly raising her hands over her face when she began to put the pieces together and realize what had happened. Her breathing became rapid and shuddered, tears falling in a generous stream, and Hunnigan could hear the sound of them hitting the floor. Helena tried to speak but couldn't get the words out, her breaths which had turned into short and uncontrollable gasps making it impossible. Hunnigan went to her and slowly wrapped her arms around Helena, and she eased into the embrace.

"It's okay, just breathe... breathe, get your feet back on the ground, easy... easy, just breathe..." Hunnigan kept repeating as she gently stroked Helena's back, realizing the younger woman had to be cold; she was still naked from having been in the shower earlier.

"Come on, let's get you back to bed and warm, okay?" Hunnigan said and Helena nodded, her face still buried in the spot between Hunnigan's neck and shoulder, her tears soaking the fabric of her T-shirt.

Hunnigan tucked her in and went to sit half-upright on her side of the bed, leaning her back against the headboard. She stayed there, gently running her fingers through Helena's hair until she calmed down. Once she'd fallen back to sleep, Hunnigan quietly got out of bed. She went to the bathroom and shut the door, leaning into the sink as she waited for the shivering and the urge to cry subside.

 _It's just adrenaline, come on, out with it,_ she mentally told herself, adamantly trying to ignore the fact that she could've gotten killed just now. Helena wouldn't have meant to do it, but all that did was make it worse because it just meant she was not in control of herself.

* * *

"Parfois on regarde les choses telles qu'elles sont en se demandant pourquoi. Parfois, on les regarde telles qu'elles pourraient être en se disant pourquoi pas," Hunnigan's voice sang softly, coming from a direction Helena couldn't quite figure out; it was distant but somehow underneath her.

 _Where am I?_ Helena wondered groggily as she slowly opened her eyes and realized she was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling once again. A dull ache in her hand registered and she pulled it out from under the covers (only then realizing she was naked) to look at it. It was swollen and bruised as was to be expected, and making a fist wasn't something she was capable of doing, not without hurting herself...but she didn't think anything was actually broken, she didn't see any deformation.

She looked around and saw some clothes arranged into a neat pile on a chair near the bed. Her own clothes had been taken into evidence by the police and she'd been stuck wearing an awkward paper suit for a while before Isabela had brought over a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Helena had no idea where those were now, the clothes on the chair were different.

There wasn't any underwear but Helena didn't care, it made sense; judging from the length of the jeans, she deduced these had to be Hunnigan's clothes, she surely didn't expect her to loan her underwear too. Helena pulled the jeans on, the overlong pant leg bunching up at her ankle and slipping under her heel.

She then pulled on the black T-shirt provided and followed it up with the red and black plaid flannel shirt. She buttoned it up, noticing it was a bit tight over her chest, and that the sleeves unsurprisingly were a bit too long. She rolled them up and then headed over to the railing preventing one from falling to the level below the mezzanine. She leaned into it and looked over to the kitchen where Hunnigan was busy making breakfast, singing along to a song playing in her earbuds. Helena smiled a little and made her way downstairs.

"Il y a lalala, si l'on prenait—" Hunnigan interrupted herself when she noticed Helena. "Oh, you're up!" she said, pulled the earbuds out and thumbed her phone to stop the song.  
"Yeah, I'm, uh..." Helena began, her eyes catching the bruising around Hunnigan's neck despite her attempts at hiding it underneath layers of concealer and foundation.

 _Well, don't that look bad despite her efforts, imagine how bad it must be without the make-up. Gotta say, though, it's nice of her to try and hide it to spare your feelings, wouldn't want to let you see your handiwork, there's no telling how your fragile, pathetic little mind would take it,_ Frances's voice snickered in Helena's head..

"...I did that," Helena muttered, tears beginning to sting in her eyes as they threatened to erupt from her again. She felt like all she'd done recently was cry.  
"Not on purpose," Hunnigan hurried to say, her hand reaching to gently cup Helena's face to assure her it was all right, but Helena pulled away from her.

"Would you stop being so...understanding! I don't deserve it. How can you even stand to be around me?" she scoffed in disbelief. "...or dare to for that matter," she added in a soft mumble. Hunnigan sighed deeply and pursed her lips as she took a moment to think.

"When I was fourteen, me and Nolan and our band played a gig at a community center, you know, for fun, for kids to have some place to go and have a good time. And we did have a good time until a bunch of drunk twenty-somethings forced their way in and started making all kinds of trouble. They dragged me down from the stage, and I was about to get wolf-packed, but thankfully, my dad managed to intervene."

"I'm... sorry you went through that but I don't see what that has to do with this."

"My options then were the same as they are now. Either let what happened rattle me to the point of never being able to get on the stage again, or get back to it. I got back on stage, and I've had many awesome experiences since then. Likewise, I'm not going to let this ruin our friendship, especially not because I know it wasn't something you did on purpose, you weren't trying to hurt me. I'm not afraid of you."

"Yeah, well, maybe you should be!" Helena argued. "God, you should've let me take the fall for treason and let me get executed. Or you should've let me kill myself, anything would be better than this!"  
"Stop it!" Hunnigan yelled suddenly, startling Helena into silence. "First of all, how dare you! How dare you stand there so willing to give up after everything I've done to help you!"

"I never asked you to do a God damn thing for me!" Helena yelled over Hunnigan's words.  
"When we get back to D.C., I want you to make an appointment with Eliza Wilkes," Hunnigan raised her voice once more to be audible over Helena's angry rant.

"I've been to all my mandatory psych evals and I've passed them, I don't need to see a shrink," Helena shook her head.  
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Hunnigan scoffed in disbelief, and Helena's eyebrow quirked at the expletive; she wasn't used to hearing Hunnigan swear.

"Look, you know she'd just prescribe me pills, and I don't want to have to take a drug for the rest of my life just to feel normal!"  
"And I don't want to have to wear glasses to see, but that doesn't mean I don't need them!" Hunnigan tried to reason.

"I'm fine!"

"You put your fist through the door yesterday, and it's not a freaking cardboard door! You nearly killed yourself before Christmas, and you almost killed someone at the diner, you don't remember if you killed your old drill sergeant, fuck, Helena, you almost strangled me last night! These are not the kinds of things a person with a healthy brain does! You need help!"

"I wanted to die! I was supposed to be executed, but you had to fuck it up for me! None of this would've happened if you hadn't interfered! I deserved to die!" Helena screamed, her voice breaking as she couldn't stop herself from crying, her tears the result of frustration now more than sadness.

Hunnigan didn't speak, just breathed heavily through her nose; Helena could tell she was struggling to keep herself from saying something she'd undoubtedly regret, her fists clenched, the muscles on her jaw tight. Helena flinched when Hunnigan suddenly moved, but instead of bitch slapping her like she felt she would've deserved, Hunnigan put her arms around Helena and hugged her.

"I don't want to hear you say things like that about yourself. You don't deserve to die. I know you're in a lot of pain right now, and I know it's difficult, but it'll get better, I promise," Hunnigan muttered against the top of Helena's head.

"How are you so patient? Why are you so good to me?" Helena sobbed against Hunnigan's shoulder.  
"Because I love you."

"What?" Helena pulled back and stared up at Hunnigan. _I'm sure I didn't hear that right.  
_ "I said because I care about you," Hunnigan repeated, a small frown of concern forming on her forehead as she regarded Helena.

"Right," Helena sighed and slowly let go of Hunnigan. "I'm just—"

"Hold that thought," Hunnigan interrupted when her phone rang and she answered the call. Helena exhaled, relieved. She hadn't really planned on keeping the conversation going, there was nothing she could think of to say, nothing new anyway, and she had no interest in going around in circles and arguing over being sent to seeing the agency psychiatrist. She had no valid arguments, Hunnigan was right, she did need help. She just genuinely did not want anyone to know just how bad it was.

"Yes, sir, I understand," Hunnigan said, listened to a while longer to the person on the phone and then finally ended the call. She plated the pancakes and turned the stove off.

"Eat," she encouraged Helena who wanted to ask about the call but knew it wasn't her place, she had no right to know who called.  
"...thank you," she mumbled instead and took a seat at the bar, reached for the syrup and poured it over the stack.

"Listen, I have to go back to D.C. for a while to sort some things out. I really don't want to leave you alone right now, but I'm afraid I don't have a choice," Hunnigan said apologetically, poured herself a cup of coffee and drank from it. Apparently she wouldn't be sitting down to share breakfast with Helena.

"Don't worry about me," she mumbled with her mouth full of food, growing more hungry with each bite, only now stopping to realize she didn't remember when was the last time she'd eaten anything.  
"Easier said than done," Hunnigan smirked and Helena rolled her eyes.

"Uh, while you're there, could you bring me some of my stuff? The cops took everything I had on me, and while I appreciate you lending me your clothes, I'd rather wear my own," she then said.  
"Of course," Hunnigan nodded.

"My keys are in the bag, I think," Helena said, gesturing toward the plastic bag on the table, what little belongings she'd been allowed to take back inside it: her wallet, keys, a lighter, and a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes.

"Gotcha," Hunnigan said, quickly finished her coffee and put the mug in the sink, moving to dig the keys from the bag with one hand and looking something up on her phone with the other.  
"If I hurry, I should be able to catch the 8 a.m. train to D.C.," she muttered to herself as she typed on her phone, buying a ticket, Helena assumed. She finished her breakfast as Hunnigan got ready to leave.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Hunnigan then asked as she was heading out.

"I'll be fine, at most I'll probably get bored because I don't know what to do around here, seeing as I don't know where 'here' is exactly."  
"West village. I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy. Go see some sights, the _Friends_ apartment is nearby, or go see Carrie Bradshaw's place," Hunnigan suggested with a smile as she put her coat on.

"I don't know who that is," Helena admitted sheepishly.  
"Well, there's something for you to do; go find out," Hunnigan chuckled, said goodbye and exited the apartment.


	26. Chapter 26

Helena was relatively certain she was the only person in the world who could get bored in the city that never slept and was home to countless things to see and do. Granted, her desire to leave Nolan's loft was next to nonexistent thanks to the very persistent gaggle of reporters who were waiting outside just to get a comment or at the very least a glimpse of the by now notorious "rogue DSO agent". Going to buy a pack of cigarettes and noodles from the bodega had turned into a rather harrowing experience once she'd been recognized by the reporters, and so rather than deal with all that, she'd stayed in.

To pass the time, she'd looked over Nolan's bookshelf and discovered that he was apparently the family historian. Deborah had been the one in her family, collecting old photos, old stories. When their grandmother had been happily drunk, she'd gladly talked about things, named people in the photos Deborah had kept looking over, shown old letters. None of that all had interested Helena as much, what joy was there to be found in the fact that evidently she descended from a bunch of angry alcoholics?

"Huh. Well, who woulda thunk," Helena said to herself when she discovered Hunnigan's family had made their fortune producing a strong spicy rum, a brand Helena was more than familiar with but hadn't ever realized was connected to Hunnigan's family. It had been Helena's go-to drink ever since Jane had introduced it to her back when she'd opened her bar in D.C. and insisted she try it, the logo on the label of the bottle the same Helena now realized she'd seen on the large gold earrings Hunnigan's mother wore.

Helena put the book away and moved to look over the DVD collection. She hadn't felt like a snoop until she spotted discs clearly labeled as digitized home movies; when she made the decision to look at them her prying became undeniable.

 _Do you realize how weird you're being? Your obsession with Hunnigan is sick,_ Frances's voice spat in the back of Helena's mind, and she didn't bother arguing with it. It was weird, maybe indeed sick even, but then again, what was the harm? The only person she was actively hurting was herself when she dove into the history of the woman she was infatuated with and could never let her know as much.

 _"Would you put that away?"_ Isabela rolled her eyes at (presumably) Garrett who was holding the camera, the text superimposed on the lower corner of the grainy footage stating it was recorded November 11th 1984 to celebrate Isabela's 20th birthday. He stated he'd spent a fortune on his new toy and proceeded to list all the fancy (well, fancy by the eighties standards anyway) features and finished by telling her he intended to use the camera too.

"Twentieth?" Helena said out loud as she did the math and came to the conclusion that Isabela had been only 15 when she'd had the twins. If she remembered correctly what Hunnigan had told her about her parents moving to the US before having the kids, she couldn't help but wonder how they'd managed that if they'd been just teenagers. Not that it was unheard of but considering everything she couldn't easily imagine the couple making it on their own.

 _So, maybe someone in the family gave them the money, who knows, maybe they were sent to the US to hide Isabela getting knocked up, what better way to avoid a scandal,_ Helena mused, chuckling a little as she conjured up dramatic plot twists that were probably way off.

She considered Googling Isabela to see if anything regarding a family scandal would come up, but remembered then that she had no phone and therefore no means to Google anything.

Sighing, Helena turned her full attention back to the video playing on the screen. The video cut abruptly and awkwardly transitioned to display Garrett's foot as he'd evidently pointed the camera down while turning it on and hitting "rec" before aiming it at his children sitting on the couch, fighting over something which had apparently amused Garrett enough to break out the video camera.

 _"Mom, she's looking at me!"  
"My eyes are closed, how could I be looking at you?" _Ingrid taunted in a singsong voice, leaning closer to Nolan to make sure she was in his face, and Garrett snorted loudly, trying not to laugh.

 _"Stop touching me!"  
"I'm not!" _

_"You're in my space and breathing my air! This is my air!"_ Nolan yelled, red-faced and teary, and shoved at his sister who fell back on the couch, laughing loudly as Garrett turned the camera toward Isabela who stood at the entrance to the kitchen with her arms folded and legs crossed at the ankles.

 _"Someday I'm going to snap. But not today,"_ she smirked and went to pick up her daughter and carried her to the other side of the room, Ingrid poking her tongue out at her brother as she was being separated from him.

There was another cut in the video, the quality of the footage improving a little, the time stamp letting Helena know they'd timewarped to 1996, and this time it was Nolan holding the camera, aiming it at people and introducing the members of the band, the crew, and their tour manager.

 _"Have you ever done this? You put your mouth over someone's nose and blow real hard and the air comes out of their mouth,"_ the sixteen year old and still very babyfaced-version of Ingrid said as she stood by the drummer of the band, a petite brunette Nolan had introduced as Melissa, or Mel.

"Ew," Helena cringed when Ingrid leaned over Mel and demonstrated, clamping her mouth over the brunette's nose and exhaled forcefully, both of them bursting into laughter a moment later, Mel exclaiming Ingrid's breath was horrible.

 _"I know, I just had coffee,"_ she laughed.  
 _"The stench is in my sinuses now!"_ Mel complained loudly as she rubbed her nose.

 _"We've got an 18-piece orchestra performing with us, so just make sure we have all the equipment we need because I don't want to have to try and rent something five minutes before the show starts,"_ the sound designer's voice spoke in the background and the video cut again to show a clip of the band performing on stage.

Helena couldn't help but smile seeing that, seeing Hunnigan in such a different environment. She certainly didn't come across as someone who would enjoy performing and be so energetic about it when comparing the younger her to the serious professional Helena had known Hunnigan as for the time they'd known each other. Then again, it made sense, Hunnigan was a detached professional at work, tough and serious. So was Leon, so was Hawke, and undoubtedly every other agent too, Helena herself included.

But when it was time to punch out, the masks of stoic government agents came off and their own personalities emerged, their fun-loving sides began to show. It was the same with Hunnigan, and Helena hadn't realized this until they'd ended up at the cabin together. There was so much more to Hunnigan than what she'd seen at work. Helena felt rather stupid at having assumed there wouldn't be.

 _"Oh, Lee's drunk. Daddy Del Rey is gonna be pissed off,"_ Brian the bass player whispered while pointing the camera at Ingrid who was staggering toward the bus. She was being supported by Mel, their height difference emphasized by the fact that Ingrid was practically using Mel as a crutch despite being hunched over. They tumbled over and Mel tried picking Ingrid up, unsuccessfully. Brian went to wake Garrett and he took a few seconds to catch up on what was happening before getting out of bed and stepping out of the bus in his underwear and barefoot, Brian following him.

 _"I swear to God, Melissa, if I ever catch you getting her drunk or high again, I will arrest you, I don't care if she'll hate me for it,_ " he growled at the brunette as he knelt down to pick up his daughter, lifting her effortlessly over his shoulder and carrying her back to the bus.

The video transitioned again, from a brief clip of the band members chattering backstage after the gig to show Ingrid sitting on a bench inside the tour bus. Mel sat next to her, leaning her head on Ingrid's chest as she stroked Mel's hair, her free hand holding a book while Mel turned the pages.

"God, I wish that were me," Helena mumbled, envying Mel as she watched Ingrid's hand in the older girl's hair, the movement of it slow and smooth, almost hypnotic to watch.

 _"Lee, tell me one of your dumb jokes,"_ Nolan's voice came from behind the camera, interrupting the sweet moment. Ingrid took a second to think about it, her fingers still brushing through Mel's hair.  
 _"Why did Captain Janeway flush the toilet?"_

 _"Why?"  
"Because she took a shit." _

It truly was a dumb joke but it made everyone laugh, Helena included.

 _"Cease and decist the lesbian activity unless you plan to include me!"_ Brian then proclaimed, jumping into the frame, and Mel kicked him in the thigh hard.

 _"That's not lesbian activity, this is lesbian activity,"_ she laughed and reached to gently grip Ingrid's chin to urge her to turn her head, and she did, leaning over and closing her eyes when Mel planted a slow, deep kiss onto her lips.

"...now I _really_ wish that were me," Helena said, her heart doing a little cartwheel when she realized that based on this, Hunnigan _did_ swing that way too, which meant maybe...

 _Except in her case it probably really_ was _just a phase, don't assume stupid things, idiot,_ Deborah's voice scolded Helena the moment she dared to give herself a moment of hope.

"I don't need the truth, I just need a story that's plausible enough to give the jury reasonable doubt, and fortunately, the media circus around Good's prior bad acts is working in my favor, the tabloids have paraded out a slew of Good's victims who have expressed their support for the rogue DSO agent who put down a sadistic monster who abused her rank to humiliate recruits," Isabela's voice came from the door as she let herself in the apartment, the agitated NYPD sergeant she was married to following her inside, both of them ignoring Helena who quickly scampered to sit up and turn the video off.

She then hurried to pull on the pair of boxer briefs she'd found in the closet, presumably Nolan's. It wasn't ideal but they were more comfortable to wear than Hunnigan's ill-fitting jeans. That said, Helena had chosen not to wear either when she'd been alone, unaware of Isabela being able to come in unannounced if she wanted to, resulting in her and her husband almost walking in on Helena Donald Ducking it at the apartment.

"She brutally beat a woman to death and you want to give her a pass? In case you forgot, _counselor,_ executing people without due process is still a class-A felony no matter what the victim allegedly did."  
"After the press Good's gotten, I wish you luck trying to find a jury pool that doesn't think she deserved it."

"How did they find out about anything regarding her trial anyway? The records were sealed and no one was talking about it when Rutherford was looking for complaining witnesses," Garrett narrowed his eyes at her.

"You're asking me?" Isabela raised her eyebrows innocently and Helena frowned. Surely Isabela wouldn't have leaked anything Helena had told her, she seemed to be a lot of things but not someone who would break confidence.  
"Do you see anyone else here?" he snapped and Helena raised her hand a little.

"I-I'm here," she said quietly but the couple continued to ignore the subject of their argument.

"Your animosity is showing, _sergeant_."  
"As is your lack of judgment, your client is a murderer."

"So you keep saying yet you have absolutely nothing to back it up with. I've never known you to be a shitty cop. Is Rutherford pressuring you, is that it? You've just decided to pin this on my client rather than bother looking for other suspects?" Isabela asked and Garrett's nose twitched in annoyance. He had no argument he could make.

"You're a backstabbing snake, you know that?" he said instead of a reasonable argument and she laughed.

"You mispronounced 'one of the most highly regarded criminal defense attorneys in the United States'. You really should consider looking into the people Rutherford subpoenaed to testify against Good and start from there, I think you'll find many who had motive and knew where to find Good that day. Wouldn't want Rutherford's office wasting millions of dollars on a case he can't win just because you guys didn't bother looking for the actual murderer," Isabela condescended, patting Garrett's bearded cheek with her palm.

His arm shot up like an attacking predator and he grabbed her wrist so hard Helena could swear she heard bones cracking. For a moment she thought he would break her arm and then her neck, and Helena was about to go over and interfere when all of a sudden she put her hand on the back of his neck, pulled on him and kissed him so hard it looked like she was going to yank his head off, her hand balling into a fist in his black hair, his arm instinctively wrapping around her midsection and pulling their bodies tightly together.

"Have a good day at work. I love you," he grumbled after she broke the kiss.  
"I love you too. Don't get killed," she smiled at him before letting him go and he exited.

"...what... is happening?" Helena asked slowly.

"What?" Isabela shrugged, produced a compact from her purse, peered into the tiny mirror, and proceeded to run a finger along the edges of her lips to clean up any possible smears of her lipstick. "Just because we're mad at each other doesn't mean we stop loving each other," she then said and snapped the compact shut.

"That's a... mature approach most people lack," Helena smiled a little awkwardly.

"Yeah, well, we've learned the 'don't go to bed angry'-way of thinking the hard way," Isabela said, and Helena didn't ask for details when she volunteered none. It wasn't difficult to imagine how easily a police officer could end up risking his life during his day at work.

"Now, go get dressed, I want you to look this case over with me," Isabela said and Helena nodded.

After putting the jeans on Helena returned downstairs where Isabela waited for the coffee to brew as she pulled out several folders and a tablet from her briefcase.

"I know you said you don't get queasy but if it gets to be too much to look at these, just let me know," she said, tapping the light brown surface of the folder containing the autopsy report.  
"You don't have to coddle me just because... of that embarrassing incident in the shower," Helena muttered awkwardly.

"Listen, I know a thing or two about PTSD and flashbacks, and I'm not some idiot who thinks it's like in the movies; I know it's not something you can just shrug off, and you don't need to pretend otherwise."

"I'm fine. Honest," Helena muttered. Isabela exhaled deeply through her nose, apparently deciding not to argue over it, and Helena was glad; the last thing she needed was to hear from yet another person how she needed to start taking pills to be normal. Maybe she didn't want to be normal.

 _Yeah, because you're so fucking happy with the nightmares and the ghosts in your head, it would get lonely if they went away, wouldn't it?_ Deborah asked argumentatively and Helena pinched her mouth shut tightly as she fought back the sudden urge to cry, hoping Isabela didn't notice, deep down knowing that it was a dumb wish, it was easy to tell when someone was about to cry. Especially if you were used to paying attention to the little things like Helena suspected Isabela was.

"Have you ever considered getting a service dog?" Isabela asked and Helena's eyebrows rose. She shook her head.

She had never thought of herself as a pet-person, and considering her work required a lot of travelling, it wasn't like she could just take a pet with her, nor did she know anyone who would pet-sit for her. Not until she'd befriended Hunnigan recently anyway, and frankly, she assumed Hunnigan had enough on her plate with her work and caring for her son.

"You should look into it," Isabela said, dug out a card from her purse and handed it to Helena.

 _K9s For Warriors rescues and trains shelter dogs to be paired as service dogs for warriors with service-connected post-traumatic stress, traumatic brain injury and/or military sexual trauma,_ the card read, followed by a phone number and a website address.

"Of course, to qualify you would need a verified clinical diagnosis and to get that you would need to see a doctor and be honest about what's going on, but that shouldn't be a problem for you, right?" Isabela asked in fake-innocence.

"So that's the catch," Helena rolled her eyes, but held onto the card. Maybe she'd look into it some time. Isabela didn't comment, seeing Helena pocket the card rather than just throw it away must've been enough of an answer to keep her from pushing the issue.

"How exactly did the press get wind of Good's 'prior bad acts' as you put it?" Helena then inquired, got up and poured herself and Isabela coffee.  
"I'm offended by your implication that I had something to do with it, because I did not," Isabela assured, and Helena believed her, but the question still remained.

"Maybe the killer did it," Isabela suggested.  
"Why would they do that?"

"Because they feel bad about you getting charged with their crime," Isabela said and Helena frowned. That didn't sound like the behavior of your typical murderer. Not that Helena expected Good's murder to be a coincidence of her falling victim to a random murderer on the loose in town; whoever had done it had known Good and what she'd done, and when Isabela began reading the autopsy report out loud, Helena became certain of that.

"Cause of death: asphyxia due to the flooding of the airways... or in other words drowning. Now that's exotic."  
"Drowning?" Helena almost spat out the coffee in her mouth, seriously beginning to question the medical examiner's qualifications.

"In layman's terms, she drowned in her own blood after all the injuries caused to her torso," Isabela muttered and turned the page. "Uterus and colon were punctured by a foreign object ante-mortem, that's telling. Someone really hated her."

"I don't blame them," Helena muttered but hated herself for the fact that despite everything, deep within her heart there was a tiny fleck that felt sorry for Good. Helena extinguished it quickly. Good didn't deserve her sympathy for any reason, what she'd deserved, she'd gotten. Helena had been through simulated drowning during training and knew enough to know Good's death must've been horrifyingly slow and painful.

 _Served her right,_ she thought angrily.

"What I can't figure out is what caused all the damage, this was no ordinary beating. Apparently, the medical examiner couldn't figure it out either," Isabela mumbled as she read the report. "Make yourself useful, agent, if the information my husband dug up about you is correct, you would've made a decent detective if it weren't for your temper," she then said and entered her PIN to unlock the tablet before putting it in front of Helena.

 _He looked me up? What am I saying, of course he did, it's the first thing anyone should do,_ Helena mused, not at all certain she even wanted to know what her file might look like to someone who already didn't think highly of her. Helena cleared her throat but didn't comment, deciding to focus on the report instead.

"This says they found traces of carbon fiber on her and... inside her. That's a bit odd, it's not exactly a household thing, isn't it usually used to make bikes and car parts?" Isabela wondered as she turned the pages of the copy of the report she'd printed out for herself.

"I think I've seen, like, protective clothing made of it, and... oh... well, now I know why the cops are so interested in my phone. The case is made of carbon fiber," Helena realized.

"Yes, but unless you beat, raped and sodomized Good with your phone, I don't think that's how the fibers got there," Isabela said.  
"So, the murder weapon is possibly made of carbon fiber. That narrows it down," Helena smirked sarcastically and tapped on the document containing the crime scene photos.

"It might be nothing, might be an important detail, you never know."

Helena scrolled through the photos and paused at a close-up of the injuries on Good's head, staring intently at the bruising on her forehead forming a distinct pattern.

"What is that? It looks familiar, but I can't figure out where I've seen it," Helena frowned and zoomed in.  
"Maybe it's a part of a logo or something similar one would see often?" Isabela suggested, leaning in to take a closer look as well.

"Could be, but I don't think it is. Oh, this is gonna bother me," Helena sighed and continued to stare at the patterned bruise on Good's forehead. Isabela sighed as well, only in annoyance at her phone ringing and interrupting her.

 _Come on, Helena, think about it. What else do they make out of carbon fiber, and what does that pattern have to do with it? You know what the connection is, just think about it, you fucking idiot!_ she berated herself as she kept looking.

"Helena..." Isabela said quietly and reached to softly touch her shoulder to get her attention, and Helena turned to look at her, her frown deepening as Isabela handed her the phone, the screen informing her the caller was her husband. Helena wasn't sure she wanted to know why he would want to speak to her.

"...hello?" she said into the phone, expecting to be greeted by Garrett, but the voice that spoke was distinctly female, and when she heard it, Helena remembered where she'd seen the pattern before.

* * *

 _Author's note: K9s for warriors is a real charity, please look them up online if you became interested in getting involved or know someone who needs the help._


	27. Chapter 27

"Oh, Harper's gone nuclear? Like, foaming-at-the-mouth maniac? Is that surprising news to anyone?" agent Skylark laughed, holding up a tablet which displayed an online version of a New York tabloid, the headline that read "DSO's problem child indicted" plastered over a somewhat blurry photo taken before Hunnigan had managed to shield Helena with her coat.

"And why am I not surprised to see Hunnigan protecting Harper? I guess it makes sense, you hire someone for their ass, you gotta be prepared to cover it," she went on, either unaware of the awkward throat clears the agents in the room did to let her know Hunnigan was right there, or then genuinely not caring that she heard it.

"Actually, I hired her for her tits," Hunnigan commented dryly and Skylark spun around in her chair to look at her, unapologetic and unimpressed as always.

"Well, either way it certainly explains why a twenty-something nobody got a position at the DSO right after being kicked out of all her previous posts due to anger management problems, which, apparently, are still a thing, but I doubt she'll even get reprimanded, will she? I mean, she got away with treason already, what's a little murder on top of that," Skylark laughed, her mirth bitter and insincere.

"Agent Harper was at the top of her class and a prime candidate due to her skills and personality, and it's not like the DSO can afford to be too picky about the agents' histories when it comes to recruiting the best of the best. I look out for all the agents," Hunnigan said, the smirk spreading on Skylark's face letting her know she'd walked right into it, getting so defensive being a dead giveaway of her perceived sympathy toward Helena.

"Oh, yeah, sure, like the way you jumped to my defense when my ex-husband made those false accusations of child abuse during the custody battle, and everyone at the agency was so understanding about it," Skylark drawled, and Hunnigan felt her nose twitch in annoyance, that particular chink in her stoic armor a trait she'd inherited from her father whose moods were difficult to read until that happened, typically when he realized he'd lost an argument, just like Hunnigan felt she'd lost this one right now because whether she liked it or not, Skylark was right.

Hunnigan hadn't jumped to her defense, because frankly, she'd felt it hadn't been her place to do so. Whatever mess had gone on between Skylark and her husband had been her personal matter, and Hunnigan doubted Skylark would've welcomed her help even if she'd offered. Besides, it wasn't like the agency had threatened to fire her over the false accusations. They'd had to investigate to make sure they were indeed false, but beyond that, no one had even implied Skylark should resign. Hunnigan had suggested she take some time off to sort out her personal life when it had become evident it was interfering with her ability to perform as an agent, but she hadn't forced her to do anything, and she reminded Skylark of that fact.

"You realize I'm not jumping to Harper's defense as a representative of the agency, I'm doing it personally because I consider her my friend who needed my help. If you have a problem with how I handle my agents, then I suggest you take it up with the director," Hunnigan said, managing to sound more confident than she felt, and Skylark smiled sweetly.

"Oh, I have, and I think he shares my curiosity regarding where exactly your loyalties lie," she said, and Hunnigan was on the verge of bitch slapping that smug grin off her face.  
"Children, behave!" Shepard's voice called out, interrupting the argument. "Hunnigan, my office."

"I've been made aware of the recent charges against one of our agents, and some at the agency have voiced their concerns regarding having to work with someone who has been proven as volatile as Harper is," Shepard got to the point immediately after Hunnigan had closed the door behind her.

"Frankly, the charges are bullshit, and—" Hunnigan began and Shepard scoffed loudly, talking over her.

"Maybe they are, maybe they aren't, funnily enough that doesn't even matter at this point. What matters is that she's been labeled a rogue DSO agent in public, this a PR disaster, especially for an agency that's supposed to be known for being honorable and uncorrupt!"

"Well, I agree, but I don't see how that is our problem, we have a PR department for a reason, don't we?" Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow, not hiding her agitation any more than he did.

"We do, and they're dealing with it, but what I want to know is how did we get here in the first place, and based on what I've seen, you're the common denominator here!" he raised his voice as he leaned over his desk and pointed his finger at her to emphasize his words. Hunnigan glanced at his finger wondering what he'd do if she'd grab it and twist until it broke.

"Me?" she asked instead of finding out.  
"Don't be cute, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Leon calls you to tell you he's just shot the president, and what do you do? You cut him loose based on a lie Harper told you."

"If I hadn't cut them loose, we probably never would've found out that Simmons was behind it!"  
"Yes, you were right. That time. What if you hadn't been?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hunnigan narrowed her eyes.  
"That in the eyes of the other agents, you have allowed a rogue agent you've recruited run the show, and by doing so you've undermined my authority."

"So, that's the problem? I've made you look bad?"

"Oh, there's that famous Ingrid Hunnigan brand arrogance. It goes well beyond simply making me look bad!" he slammed his palm against his desk. "I am the director! If someone gets hurt, that's ultimately on me! If a rogue agent kills someone, that's on me!"

"If you were me in the same situation, you would've done the same thing I did, you would've trusted your gut, and I'm sorry if expecting you to trust my judgment is too much to ask and comes across as arrogance!"

"I've tolerated the liberties you've taken because I've trusted you and your gut, and you've been right in the past, but that won't always be the case, and the fact that your protégé has just been indicted with murder kind of makes my point, wouldn't you agree!"

"No, I wouldn't because she didn't do anything."  
"As far as you know. Unless you were there with her, you can't know for certain, and you aren't infallible. The sooner you stop acting with the confidence of someone who is, the better!" Shepard spat, exhaled in exasperation and ran a hand over his face. "What's your relationship with Harper?" he then asked after taking a few seconds to calm down.

"The same as my relationship with any of my agents is, so don't even go there; if you want to smoke me out of the DSO you're gonna have to do better than a sexual misconduct lodge."  
"For Christ's sakes, Hunnigan, no one's trying to smoke you out," he rolled his eyes. "But like I said, concerns regarding your behavior have been voiced and frankly, your integrity is in question."

"Cut the crap and just tell me what the accusation is. Better yet, let me face my accusers."  
"At the moment I'm accusing you of being too emotionally attached to Harper and that makes me question your ability to work with her. You've covered for her to the point of putting other agents at risk."

"How!" Hunnigan scoffed in disbelief.  
"By omitting her obvious mental health issues from your reports to HR! She's been barely passing her psych evals, in the latest one Wilkes stated that unless Harper agrees to start seeing her weekly, she should be suspended, but amazingly that report failed to leave your desk!"

"I needed her on the field!" Hunnigan argued but in her heart she knew it wasn't the full truth. As short staffed as they were after the attack in Tall Oaks, she could've and should've let Helena take a few mental health weeks, but she hadn't because she hadn't wanted that on Helena's record; Helena had been under so much scrutiny over everything already, her career wouldn't have survived that remark in her file.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Hunnigan recalled her father's words from years ago when she'd been a selfish brat and put her own comfort ahead of doing the right thing in the name of making someone happy. It hadn't been until Nolan's cocaine overdose that she'd decided she'd rather he was angry at her than dead, the latter being where he'd end up if she kept enabling his addiction just because the thought of him temporarily hating her for intervening made her sad. She'd realized too late she hadn't done him any favors, and she was now realizing she hadn't done any to Helena either.

"What do you think happens if she has a dissociative episode on the field, huh? How do you think that would turn out for everyone involved!"  
"I felt it was worth the risk because I didn't have any reason to think otherwise!" Hunnigan flat out lied.

"And who the hell are you to decide that against Doctor Wilkes's assessment!" Shepard yelled.  
"Harper's handler!" Hunnigan yelled back, fully aware of just how weak her argument was, if it should even count as one.

"Not anymore!"  
"Excuse me?"

"No one is unexpendable, no one is infallible, not even you. You'd do well to remember that, agent Hunnigan. You may be the one who runs field operations support, but I am your superior officer, and you report to me. Understood?" Shepard said after a long moment of tense silence.

"Understood," Hunnigan said tersely.

She was upset and wanted to keep arguing but she couldn't because she knew she had no argument. Talking back now would be nothing more than juvenile whining, and she was above that.

Shepard had been more than reasonable with her and her indiscretions, he was good at his job and knew when to look the other way if doing so served the greater good. Doing so now wouldn't serve anything other than Hunnigan's ego and she agreed he had every right to question her now. Understanding he had a valid reason and agreeing with him didn't mean she liked it, though.

"We have rules and codes of conduct in place for a reason, I expect you to understand that better than anyone. If you want to keep working here, you _will_ obey orders, and as your commanding officer I am telling you that this is your final warning. I am placing you on probation, and I'm assigning Harper a new handler _if_ the charges against her are dropped and _if_ she passes her psych eval."

"Understood," Hunnigan repeated.

"Schedule yourself a psych eval as well, that's an order, and then have Kennedy and Harper transferred into agent Harding's care and take over her agents."

"Yes, sir," Hunnigan muttered, thinking this was Shepard's way of forcing Hunnigan and Skylark into the proverbial get along-shirt; agent Harding had been Skylark and Hawke's designated FOS agent, and now Shepard was testing Hunnigan's professionalism by forcing her to work with the woman he knew she did not get along with at all. Hunnigan had to commend him for his cleverness. What better way to clip Hunnigan's wings and get her to behave than openly challenging her ability to handle herself professionally by pairing her with the one person she was most likely to clash with.

"Dismissed."

Wordlessly, Hunnigan stood and exited his office, barely resisting the urge to slam the door. Such childish demonstrations of anger would've served no one, no matter how good it would've felt. As she passed the field agents' bullpen, Skylark drew her attention.

"Oh, Hunnigan, heheh," she chuckled and then spoke in a condescending insincere sad voice, "this might not be the right time to ask, what with your career in the toilet and everything, but isn't your parking space right by the entrance? I'm thinking about upgrading my space, I think my car would look great in your spot."

"Huh-larious," Hunnigan drawled sarcastically, "keep it up; if you remain as banal and unoriginal as you are now you're bound to put Amy Schumer out of business," she then smiled sweetly and made her way over to the kitchenette, deciding to grab a mug of coffee before getting to work on transferring her agents to Harding.

"Darn it, Leon," Hunnigan heard an annoyed sigh from the kitchenette. _Speak of the devil._

Agent Lace Harding stood in front of the cabinet with her hands on her hips, and Hunnigan saw the problem. Apparently Leon had been in charge of emptying the dishwasher today and he'd put Harding's mug in the cabinet along with the others which wouldn't have been a problem if it weren't for the fact that Harding was barely five feet tall and thus the mug placed in the back of the third shelf in the cabinet was just out of her reach.

"Here," Hunnigan said and handed the mug to her.

"Thanks. This is embarrassing, like, what am I, a five year old who has to carry a little step ladder with her?" Harding scoffed and Hunnigan smiled. She was a solid foot taller than Harding and had plenty to say about the perils of being on the other end of the problem.

"Never enough leg room, I keep hitting my head on things, don't even get me started on fixed showerheads, cold hands and feet due to poor blood circulation..." Hunnigan trailed off as she poured herself coffee. "Do you want me to 'gently' remind Leon to keep your mug better available?"

"No, he's not doing it because he's a jerk, he just doesn't think because as smart as he is, he's a dumbass," Harding laughed softly and Hunnigan nodded in agreement.

"Speaking of our beloved dumbass, Shepard has ordered you and I to switch agents effective immediately, so you'd get Leon and Helena, and I get Hawke and Skylark," Hunnigan informed her. Harding's eyebrows rose, a surprised expression setting on her freckled face, then she rolled her green eyes.

"Let me guess, Skylark had something to do with that."  
"Well, she has apparently very actively campaigned for having me removed from my position, but I don't think she guessed it would backfire on her this badly, I doubt she wanted to end up working with me."

"Yeah, I bet, she has been rather vocal about her opinions, especially after... well, the whole murder charge," Harding said somewhat awkwardly.

"I'm sure. But, just so you know, this is happening, so if there's anything I should know, any cases that I should be up to date on, let me know. I'll look into what Leon and Helena have been working on and get you the details, and inform the agents in question about the new arrangement."

"Sounds good," Harding nodded.

* * *

After picking up Seeley from Major and having a late dinner, Hunnigan sat on the couch and opened her laptop to get started on the transfer process while Seeley focused his attention on the TV, watching the escapades of the animated little ponies. He'd spent most of dinner excitedly telling Hunnigan about all the fun he'd had with his father and Josephine, and while Hunnigan was beyond happy to hear he'd been well taken care of and had a good time, she couldn't help but feel a bit jealous and somewhat annoyed even. Evidently there was more fun to be had at his father's house than here, and while the rational side of her knew it was in no way Major or Josephine's fault Hunnigan couldn't think of fun things to do or have the time to do them as often as she knew she should've, she felt wronged somehow.

She should've been the one to take him to playgrounds or amusement parks and aquariums and museums, she should've been there more, spent time with him, played with him. Instead, when they did have time together, she sat him on the couch and worked while he watched cartoons.

 _Way to be a mom,_ Hunnigan sighed internally. _Then again, that's how my mother did it and we turned out fine... aside from Nolan's drug addiction and me not getting along with her. What is wrong with me, what am I doing?_ she scolded herself silently for ignoring her son despite just thinking what a terrible job she was doing as a mother. She shut her laptop down and switched her phone off, deciding that everything else would just have to wait. She then scooted closer to Seeley, and he snuggled against her side as she put her arm around him.

"How you doin', buddy?" she asked.  
"I'm good. Can I have chocolate milk?" he asked and she smiled.

"Sure thing," she nodded and went to make some. Once done, she closed the lid of the glass mug and put the straw in, and returned to the living room.  
"It's not full!" Seeley complained when Hunnigan gave him the mug that was indeed only half full, but he didn't take into account that it was a large mug and had she filled it, he wouldn't have had the strength to lift it nor the appetite to finish drinking it.

"I will make more if you finish this first, okay?"  
"Fine," he grumbled a little, but snuggled back in her lap regardless of being somewhat displeased with her antics. Hunnigan nuzzled his hair and kissed the top of his head as she held him in her lap and pretended to care about Applejack's argument with Fluttershy as much as Seeley did.

Hunnigan smiled when he reached up and sought out a lock of Hunnigan's hair which rested over her shoulders, free from the bun she usually kept it in at work. He twirled it around his index finger and then proceeded to fiddle with it, Hunnigan knowing by now it would result in an impossible to solve-tangle, but loving the fact that he still did it; it was something he'd done since he was a baby, and Hunnigan dreaded the day he'd stop because that would mean he'd grown out of it.

She knew there was nothing she could do about it, it was an inevitability every parent faced, but knowing that didn't stop her from childishly wishing he wouldn't grow up, at least not so fast. She doubted she had many years left when he'd happily sit on her lap or cuddle with her in bed while listening to her telling him stories. He'd be a grown man soon enough, and all she could do was hope that she'd done a decent enough job as his mother to ensure he'd grow up to be a good man.

 _But for now, he's still my baby boy,_ Hunnigan smiled and hugged him tightly to herself and peppered the side of his neck and his cheek with tiny kisses.

"You're crushing me," he giggled.  
"I can't help it, you're so cute and I love you so much I just want to squeeze you and kiss your little face," Hunnigan laughed.

"I love you too," Seeley chuckled, allowed himself to be snuggled and kissed and then finished his chocolate milk, belching loudly and asked for a refill, eliciting a hearty laugh from Hunnigan who didn't even bother scolding him for his lack of manners.


	28. Chapter 28

_All units respond to a hostage situation at 672 West Rosewood Avenue._

"Well, that's coming a bit late, isn't it? You're already here," Jane said and removed the radio from detective De La Cruz's utility belt and placed it on the bar. De La Cruz was the only one at the bar anymore, she'd agreed to exchange herself for the handful of people who had originally been held at the bar when the crazed redhead had demanded to speak with the lead detective in charge of handling Kassandra Good's murder.

"You could've just come over and talked to me, this was unnecessary, do you realize how stupid you're being about this?" De La Cruz grunted and rolled her shoulders a little, sitting on a stool with her arms stretched behind her and her wrists handcuffed to the railing running below the bar was more uncomfortable than she would've imagined at first.

"Well, that's a nice way to talk to someone who is holding you hostage and pointing a gun at you," Jane smiled sweetly and gently tapped De La Cruz's forehead with the barrel to emphasize her point.  
"What do you even want? What is the point?" the detective snapped and yanked her head away from the pistol.

"I need to right a wrong. See, you're right, this wouldn't be necessary if it weren't for the fact that this became a rather public affair," Jane said, stood up straight and pocketed the pistol as she took a step away.

"If it hadn't, I would've done the sensible thing, I would've walked to the precinct and told you that you got the wrong woman, that I did it. But, my friend was publicly crucified for a murder I committed, yes, this is me confessing to it, listen carefully, so in order to set the record straight, I need to get everyone's attention, now don't I?" she spoke as she walked back and forth, limping a little because the prosthesis she was wearing wasn't her usual one, it was a temporary one, slightly ill-fitting, one she had been meaning to wear only until she'd have her own repaired, but that had been postponed for obvious reasons.

"There's your murder weapon," she said and tossed a gym bag onto the floor with a loud crash and a metallic clink as the pieces of her prosthesis clattered against each other.

"All right. You've made your point, and I'm not doubting you, okay? So, let's just... get to the station and you can give your statement and that'll be the end of this," De La Cruz tried to reason with her, suspecting it would be pointless but having to try anyway; if the situation escalated, it would end in bloodshed and she'd rather not see it happen.

"I told you. This isn't just about setting official records straight, this is about making sure the public knows the truth as well, I doubt you lot are likely to issue a formal apology for just assuming Harper did it and ruining her reputation, are you? No, didn't think so. Oh, look, your friends are here. Their response time is a joke," Jane scoffed as she heard the sirens and saw the flashes of red and blue light approaching. She grabbed the radio and held it in front of De La Cruz.

"Could you please inform your buddies that I'd like them to bring Helena Harper here, and make sure there's plenty of press to document everything too, I wouldn't mind them bringing over a reporter," Jane then said and pushed the button on the device, allowing De La Cruz to relay the message.

* * *

"Is this really necessary?" Helena asked when the uniformed officer told her to wear a bulletproof vest before she'd be allowed to enter the building.  
"Yes."  
"She's not gonna shoot me," Helena said as she tightened the vest, and the officer didn't comment.

No, Jane might not shoot her, but if things got ugly, who knew, maybe a trigger happy police officer would end up discharging their weapon, and the last thing the NYPD needed was an unholy amount of press witnessing them gun down an unarmed civilian. Or, that's how they would portray Helena as, she was sure. Ironic, considering the past few weeks they'd happily labeled her the danger to society.

Shortly after putting the vest on, Helena made her way over to the bar with Garrett and a reporter carrying a camera on his shoulder. Once they were inside, Jane ordered Garrett to join De La Cruz at the bar and proceeded to handcuff him, then told the reporter to sit at a table in the middle of the bar and document everything while keeping his mouth shut. He had no objections.

"Jane, what are you doing?" Helena asked her finally as she watched Jane work behind the bar as if it were the most natural thing to do right now, as if it was her place.

"What does it look like? I'm having a drink," she answered as she poured herself a pint and then proceeded to mix Helena a rum and coke before walking out from behind the bar and taking a seat at the table nearest to the bar.

"You know that's not—" Helena began as she joined her at the table, ignoring the offered drink. Now was not the time.

"I know, I know," Jane interrupted impatiently, drank from the pint and exhaled deeply after swallowing. "I didn't mean for this, I never meant for you to get in trouble, I didn't even know you were here, that you'd been at Good's place," she then said.

"I know you didn't, I didn't think that—" Helena began but Jane interrupted her again.

"Truth is, I didn't even mean to do it, you know. I didn't go over with the intent to kill her, I just... I saw her, and I saw how people were treating the case. The way it was worded in the news. 'Abused her position as a superior officer', do you know what that sounds like?" she asked, but instead of waiting for Helena to answer, she turned to look at Garrett and De La Cruz, telling them to answer the question.

"It sounds like she just made you clean toilets with toothbrushes," Garrett spoke.

"Yay, he gets it!" Jane applauded, her tone condescending and mocking. "Well, it went way beyond something as harmless as that!" she then snapped.  
"I read the autopsy report, I figured as much," Garret muttered.

"And the most brilliant part is, our precious fucking army nurtured and covered for that amoral monster because she was one of their better tools. Thing is, Kassandra Good was smart, and she could be charming if she wanted to be, but even she couldn't have fooled people for that long because she practically flaunted what she was doing," Jane spat.

Helena inhaled deeply through her nose, anxiety beginning to claim a foothold as it kept circling her, looking for a way in, looking to make itself at home. Jane's reminders of Good and the things she did was bringing back too many bad memories.

All she could do was confirm Jane's words, because that was what Good had been like about it; she'd been shameless, she'd made it clear she was in charge and people would side with her, so it was pointless to report her actions. Helena still regretted believing Good's words, believing it had been her own fault. And she hated the question still lingered within her mind: had she encouraged it, had she done something to deserve it, had it really been her fault? She didn't think the doubt would ever fully go away no matter how much she thought about it rationally.

"Letting everyone know she could get away with it was one of her favorite power trips. You can bet your ass the army knew the truth long before it became a big public mess," Jane scoffed and took another long drink. "She wasn't the first, she certainly won't be the last."

"Maybe with this coming out in public, she could be the last," De La Cruz suggested, and Jane laughed bitterly.  
"If you genuinely believe that you're the most gullible idiot on the planet."

"Jane, just.. this is enough, just end this and let's go home," Helena said quietly.  
"Yeah... that's not how this is going to go down, you know better than that, Harper," Jane said ruefully.

"But it doesn't have to—" Helena tried but Jane wasn't interested in hearing her out. Instead, she stood up and turned her attention to De La Cruz.  
"Let me tell you something, detective. You don't come back from the things Sergeant Good did to you and retain your humanity or even the slightest remnants of your fucking dignity."

"Jane..." Helena tried to interrupt.  
"Shut up, corporal," she spat waving her hand in Helena's general direction, her attention still on De La Cruz. She leaned down to be able to stare right at her.

"You know, they told us we'd be greeted as liberators," Jane laughed mirthlessly. "And the stupid thing is, I believed it, I thought I was doing something good, something worthwhile, and that's how it works isn't it? For as long as you're over there, you're the hero, but the moment you come back, no one gives a fuck about you because you have already served your purpose," she said, stood up straight and turned, beginning to pace back and forth again.

"After you come back, people practically line up to thank you for your service, but that's it. You go through all that fucking shit, you do things... for nothing!"  
"What did you do?" Garrett asked, having picked up on the slight hesitation, and Jane scoffed before theatrically clearing her throat and miming holding a piece of paper up in front of her face as if reading a statement from it.

"The investigation concluded that certain personnel failed to comply with the rules of engagement and the law of armed conflict. However, the investigation did not conclude that these failures amounted to a war crime," she began her dramatic quote. "The investigation identified seven U.S. service members whose conduct warranted consideration for appropriate administrative or disciplinary action. The actions included suspension and removal from command, letter of reprimand, formal counseling and extensive retraining."

"Fancy way of saying we admit our guys did bad things but we're not gonna do anything about it," De La Cruz commented. Jane nodded repeatedly, went back to the table and finished her pint before addressing Garrett again.

"To answer your question, I did nothing. Turned my head to look away at most. But the thing is, I was happy to do that."  
"Why?" he asked.

"Because I hate them. I made a decision to be more than just a government stooge, I wanted to make a difference, what better way to do that than by stringing up every motherfucker threatening to turn the streets into war zones. You think it's a neverending battle, but it doesn't have to be, you just need to pick a fucking side and take action!"

"Jane," Helena said and she turned to her.  
"Oh, what?" she snapped. "What, what! Love thine enemy? What!" she yelled furiously and stepped to Helena, reaching to grip her shoulders.

"Did you love thine fucking enemy when you saw the medics shovel bits of Maxima into a body bag?" she demanded.  
"Stop!"

"Shut! Up!" Jane shouted straight to her face and Helena nodded, pinching her lips together, not just to keep from speaking but to keep them from quivering as she felt herself be on the brink of tears. The anxiety was getting worse, she was beginning to shiver and breathing was becoming difficult.

"So it's Sergeant Good's fault you like gunning down Afghan civilians?" Garrett drew her attention to himself, and Jane let go of Helena, turning to look at him instead.

"No, because unlike most people I am capable of taking responsibility for my own depravity. And that's why I'm here, I'm taking responsibility," Jane said and dug into her pocket, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper which she then shoved into the chest pocket of Garrett's white shirt.

"My signed confession, and you already have the murder weapon," Jane said and kicked at the gym bag on the floor for emphasis. "That all you need?"  
"It's more than sufficient," Garrett answered matter-of-factly.

"Great," Jane said, then went over to the reporter who visibly jumped a little when she turned her attention to him.

"And this is for you, a bit of a manifesto, I sure would appreciate it if you made sure people get to read it, it's a scoop," Jane said, gave him a paper too and then turned back to the others, put her hands on her hips and sighed deeply, as if happily inspecting her handiwork after finishing a big chore.

"I think we're done here."

Garrett and De La Cruz exchanged confused looks, and Helena frowned deeply. Something suddenly felt... off. She had no word to describe it, but it was an unpleasant cold feeling spreading in Helena's gut, and she became aware of her heart beating rapidly, her mouth being dry, her fists in tight balls, the aching pain from the injured hand being clenched roping up her forearm.

Rationally Helena knew it made sense she'd feel off, she was essentially in a hostage situation, but another part of her knew that wasn't the problem. She hadn't been worried coming in here, she hadn't sensed danger, but she was sensing it now.

 _Is it real? Or am I imagining it because of everything, am I imagining it because I've been traumatized and what Jane said is triggering something?_ Helena questioned herself.

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble, I didn't mean to," Jane then apologized to her, and despite all her efforts, Helena couldn't get rid of the unsettled feeling gnawing at her. Something was very wrong and about to get worse, but what and how, she didn't know.

"It's okay, I know you didn't do it on purpose, I forgive you," she said quietly.

"Thank you, that's all I needed to hear," Jane smiled, raised the pistol to her temple and pulled the trigger.


	29. Chapter 29

"I... I don't know what I'm even supposed to say," Helena muttered to Hunnigan. They sat on a bench located on the edge of a park, near a slightly secluded facility Helena was supposed to go to. Hunnigan reached to put her arm around Helena, and she eased into the gentle hold, leaning to rest her head on Hunnigan's shoulder.

After witnessing her friend's suicide, Helena had spent the first hour uncontrollably sobbing until she'd once again found herself being medicated to help her calm down enough to sleep, her dreams haunted by memories of what she'd seen, gory images of gray and red tissue landing on the floor, on Helena, in the rum and coke Jane had mixed for her, white bone fragments floating in the dark drink.

The next couple of days she'd spent mostly sleeping, then spending what little time she was awake crying herself back to sleep. It wasn't until yesterday that Hunnigan had finally gotten through to her and Helena had agreed to this.

"Well..." Hunnigan began slowly, tucking her free hand into the pocket of her leather jacket to shield it from the chilly spring wind. The weather had been nice and sunny for the past couple of weeks but the wind was still eating away at the warmth.

"Maybe start by stating your name and that you've made an appointment and that you're scheduled to stay for three months," she said.

Helena took a deep breath and stood up.

"I should go."  
"Do you want me to walk you in?" Hunnigan asked and stood as well.

"No, I... I think this is something I need to do myself. You've already done so much for me, I can't... ever repay you any of it, just... thank you."  
"You're my friend, I wouldn't abandon you."

"I don't think I deserve to have a friend as good as you, but I guess I'm doing something right to have you still in my life. Either that or you're being punished for something," Helena smirked.  
"Well, either way, I don't plan on going anywhere, so," Hunnigan shrugged with a smile.

"And, thanks for taking care of everything, I..."  
"Don't worry about anything, just focus on recovering, I promise I'll sort out everything else in the meanwhile," Hunnigan interrupted gently, not letting Helena stall any further.

"All right. I'm off."  
"All right," Hunnigan nodded. "I'll come visit you once you've settled in, if you like?"

"I would love that, yes, please do," Helena smiled. "I'll see you later," she then said, managing to sound surprisingly light-hearted despite not really feeling it as she turned to walk across the yard, heading over to the building and finally entered through the double doors underneath a large sign that identified the place as White Blossom psychiatric hospital.

* * *

Paying three months' rent in advance wasn't something a government agent who earned roughly fifty-five thousand annually before taxes and deductions could do, which meant Helena had no other choice but to move out. Or, more accurately, she'd signed the required paperwork before checking in to White Blossom, but the actual packing and moving her things to storage was something she didn't have the time for.

Hunnigan hadn't given her any more time, she'd known Helena had attempted to keep putting checking in off indefinitely because there was always one more thing that needed to be taken care of before she could, but Hunnigan had taken over and told her she'd handle it in Helena's absence. Fortunately, Helena didn't seem to be one who collected knicknacks which made packing her things relatively easy; there was no need to keep sorting things because all things were necessary.

Hunnigan finished packing up the living room and the kitchen and finally moved on to the bedroom. She gathered Helena's clothes and shoes into large plastic bags before turning her attention to the dresser by the bed, the piece of furniture doubling as a nightstand. There was a book on it, another one of the romance novels Helena seemed to enjoy. Hunnigan made a mental note to bring it to Helena when she'd get to visit her.

She dug out the underwear and socks haphazardly tossed into the first drawer (noticing most of Helena's underpants were men's boxer briefs) and bagged them before moving on to the next drawer. Within was a photo album, an old mp3-player and underneath those a shadowbox Hunnigan paused to look at for a moment. In the middle of it was a portrait of Helena in her dress uniform, the photo surrounded by various medals she'd accumulated during her service.

 _She was just a kid,_ Hunnigan mused looking at Helena's picture, thinking back to what she'd been doing at seventeen. Typical stupid things teenagers did, trying cigarettes and alcohol, her biggest concerns in life ranging from figuring out how to conceal a huge pimple to worrying about losing a basketball game; she certainly hadn't been preparing to get shipped off to a war zone.

 _Poor girl,_ she sighed internally before putting the item into a cardboard box with the other things.

"All right," Hunnigan said to herself, checked her watch and did a tour of the apartment to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Once satisfied everything was packed, she called the guys she'd hired to actually do the carrying and transporting. Within a couple of hours, the apartment was empty, cleaned and the keys given back to the landlord.

* * *

April 7th. After a week, Helena had finally gotten used to where she was waking up, and she'd grown to rather like the routine despite finding her stay somewhat boring. On the plus side, she'd had a lot of time to catch up on reading and practice drawing, a skill she'd neglected to hone due to lack of time and genuine interest; she had the time now.

She'd also made a friend when a young woman named Sera (who had an easily recognizable and very uninhibited laugh, and who'd given herself a very unfortunate looking bangs with a vegetable knife because she'd gotten so annoyed at her hair getting in her eyes, and who always stared up at the sky grinning when they were outside because she liked to smile at the clouds) had checked in and struck up a conversation after noticing Helena also had a habit of doodling. She spoke fast and was sometimes downright incomprehensible but there was a certain joyfulness about her that Helena found herself drawn to, Sera was fun to hang out with, and Helena hadn't even realized how much she'd missed having someone like that in her life.

For a good while, Deborah had been the fun person who would think of something ridiculous and go do it (like running up to a band performing kids' songs to a group of children and yelling "Play 'Paranoid!'" which was something Helena would've found funny but would've never done herself) just because it would be funny. Her ability to go about life completely unembarrassed and free to do whatever she wanted had been fun to witness and be a part of... at least until it became Helena's responsibility to clean up the messes Deborah made or got herself into when carefreely partying her way through life. But it was that exact happiness, that energy, that life force that had made her such a joy to be around, and Helena hadn't met anyone else quite like that, not until meeting Sera who had that same energy.

"Hey, Happy! Whatcha doodlin'?" Sera inquired cheerfully as she hopped to sit on the table and peered over at Helena's notebook.

"So, it's 'Happy' today, huh?" Helena chuckled. So far she'd been Harley, Perrbear, Har-Har, Hap, and Harri Perri. Sera had given nicknames to everyone and considering the frequency with which the names changed it was quite taxing trying to keep up with who she was referring to at any given time, Helena had given up shortly after making her first attempt of keeping track. She still didn't know who someone Sera called Widdle was supposed to be.

"Ooo, is that the woman you never shut up about during group?" Sera asked, tilting her head as she stared at the simple silhouette of a woman's figure, her hair tied up as she looked to the side, leaning to her left arm.  
"Who?" Helena asked innocently and closed the notebook.

"Inky!"  
"You're not making any sense."

"Pbbth, what fun is there in making sense? You're smart, but you're sort of stupid," Sera rolled her eyes as she rocked back and forth on the table for a moment before standing up and walking away, ending the conversation as abruptly as she'd started it.

Helena glanced up when the mental health technician named Adam came by and informed her it was time to meet with doctor Wilkes. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, she asked how Helena's trauma timeline was coming along and Helena felt like a kid who'd just gotten called out for not doing their homework.

She'd almost finished it before getting distracted thinking about Hunnigan and wondering how she was doing which had ended in her idly drawing Hunnigan rather than finishing her assignment.

"I... almost didn't make it because it's unbelievable. Like, literally, I'd barely gotten started and then I looked at it... and I thought that if I showed it to anyone, they wouldn't believe me."  
"Why wouldn't they believe you?"

"Because I don't think I come across as someone who's been through all this," Helena said and to emphasize her point, she held up her notebook, flipping several pages detailing the events of her experiences.

"I seem normal, you know. I'm good at my job, I don't do drugs, I don't drink excessively... often anyway, I go to work, come home, do normal things. Nobody would believe me if I told them that inside I'm just an insecure ball of emotional scar tissue. And it's my own fault, really... you know, that no one would believe, because I've done everything in my power to convince everyone that I'm fine."

"Is there a reason why you kept insisting you're fine despite knowing you weren't?" Doctor Wilkes asked and Helena sighed deeply. There wasn't a reason, not a good one, not one that didn't serve only to show just how pride and vanity had very nearly destroyed her.

"It's embarrassing."  
"Asking for help is embarrassing?"

"No," Helena shook her head, "needing it is embarrassing. I was raised to believe that needing help is for wussies, you don't have a breakdown, you cope. If you can't, you're a useless drama queen."

"I can't imagine how exhausting it must be pretending you're all right on top of feeling anxious, scared and depressed," Doctor Wilkes commented and Helena swallowed hard as she felt the tears start stinging in her eyes.

"It is, and I just—" she sniffled and took a shuddering breath, "kept thinking that if I make it through this one more thing, then I could take a break, but things just kept happening and piling up, and everything just got worse and worse, and I didn't know what to do about it. I still don't. I dread to imagine what is going wrong as we speak, what 'fun' things I have to look forward to when I get home," she said, the tears fading as anger began to bubble.

"Oh, wait, sorry, I don't have a home anymore," she then corrected herself agitatedly.  
"I understand it's not easy to just not think about all that, but I really want you to spend your time here focusing solely on your recovery. You said Hunnigan was taking care of things for you while you're here, right?"

"Yeah, she's... she's been helping me, she's the one who convinced me to check in here in the first place," Helena muttered, getting a little warm in her heart when she thought of Hunnigan.

"Okay, I know Hunnigan well enough to be able to say that I am absolutely certain everything is being handled, you have nothing to worry about," Doctor Wilkes smiled and Helena chuckled, nodding a little. That was Hunnigan all right, responsible, reliable, trustworthy, and loyal.

"It's not that I don't trust her to take care of everything. Hell, she's undoubtedly doing a better job of it than I was. I just feel like a burden, and I expect it won't be easy adjusting to everything when I get out, that's all."

"Do you feel up to getting started?" Doctor Wilkes nodded toward Helena's notebook.  
"I guess I have to, huh," Helena sighed and opened it.

Doctor Wilkes had told Helena to think of her mind as a cluttered desk or a messy filing cabinet, and her traumas as random pieces of paperwork just thrown on top of teetering piles of previously haphazardly stored paperwork. Whenever she touched one askew file — in other words when something triggered a slew of bad memories— the whole system collapsed. Her job while staying here was to go through all the files and papers and organize them. It would be painful, difficult and exhausting going through all of it, but Helena believed Doctor Wilkes when she said it was necessary, and would help.

"I suppose we'll be a cliché and start by talking about my parents and my childhood, huh," Helena muttered and Doctor Wilkes smiled, nodding once again.

"My dad was a marine, he went to fight in the Gulf War shortly after I was born and came back a bit colder and more aloof than he'd been before, at least that's what I was told. I don't know much about my mom or her side of the family, only that she wasn't in touch with any of them," Helena began.

Deborah had collected stories, family history, photos, but most of them had been from their father's side. Made sense considering it was their father's mother who'd raised them, but it also left a lot to be desired as far as details and accuracy went. There weren't many stories Frances Harper had told that weren't colored with her own personal opinions on the matters she discussed.

"According to my grandmother she was a lazy slut. But, she was biased, didn't think anyone was good enough for her son, so... or at least I assume so, could be I'm wrong, could be she really was a lazy slut. Like I said, I don't know and I have no means of finding out. I do know... there's a pretty good chance that Deborah was only my half-sister. I'm not sure about that either, could be I'm remembering wrong, could be my mom told my father that just to get under his skin."

 _Fine! She's not yours! Is that what you want to hear? Are you happy now!_

The last thing Helena had heard of her parents before they'd left in the car which one of them (presumably her mother) had intentionally driven into a concrete wall. Helena had looked into that at least, to make sure it had been intentional. The police reports she'd dug up had stated there'd been no skid marks to indicate the driver had tried braking. Could've been she just hadn't had a chance to, but in her gut, Helena knew that wasn't the case; she'd done it on purpose.

"So, there's that brand of fucked up that's been fucked into the person that I am," Helena smirked wryly. She took a moment to stare at her notebook, sighing at the long list of abuses she'd endured in the hands of her grandmother. It would take all day at this rate.

"She beat us. Well, mostly me. Sometimes it was deserved I guess. Like I'd do something stupid that ended badly, mess around and spill my drink at the dinner table or break a plate, or some shit like that."

"None of those things make it deserved," Doctor Wilkes interjected. Helena supposed she had a point. She didn't think she'd ever seen someone yell at a grown-up about breaking a plate or spilling a drink; they'd just sigh and get something to clean the mess up with.

 _If I ever have kids I'll never— you're never having kids, what a stupid thought, who would you have them with? Don't make me laugh,_ an intrusive thought donning the voice of her grandmother interrupted her musing.

"Anyway, she hated me, constantly told me how useless I am, called me sick for a reason I still haven't figured out, kept comparing me to my parents — mostly pointing out how much I in her opinion resembled my lazy slut of a mother. We'll be here all week if I go into all these in detail," Helena said, tapping her finger over the notes she'd made.

"We will have to go through all of them, but you're right, that is not a task for today," Doctor Wilkes agreed.

"Fast forward to when I turned seventeen and grandma told me to enlist or get the hell out of her house. So, that's how I wound up at the army and met Sergeant Good," Helena muttered. "That's... also a subject I'd rather not talk about in detail right now."

"I understand," Doctor Wilkes said softly.

"I received orders to go to Afghanistan where I served as a medic, and saw some... pretty gruesome things. And then I saw my mentor get blown up, and my friend lose a leg. I'm... sorry, I really don't want to talk about all that. Or any of this, it's just..."

"You don't have to right now, we're just going through what you have written down so we'll have an idea of what we'll work through in time when you're ready."  
"...then Deborah died... or... more like I had to let her die. You know the kind of things the DSO investigates mostly, it was one of those kinds of situations."

"I understand," Doctor Wilkes let her know.  
"I had to..."

 _You should put her down if you have any sympathy for her,_ Ada's words rang in her ears. Crude, callous, but also... accurate. It had been exactly that, she'd had to _put down_ her own sister. She'd _put down_ the young woman she'd spent her entire life protecting and loving. She'd _put down_ the only person she'd still had left in the world and now she was alone.

"I had to kill her after she got infected," Helena said out loud, more because she needed to hear herself say it than because she needed Wilkes to understand.

"...my hatred toward Simmons who was behind the entire bullshit thing was what kept me going until I'd avenged Deborah's death. After Simmons was gone, I thought... that it was finally over, all this fucking living, you know. I thought I'd get the death penalty because I'd committed treason, it was my fault the president got infected and killed. And I wanted to die, I mean..." Helena paused, taking a second to consider her following words carefully.

The last thing she wanted was to end up under suicide watch. Openly admitting she'd wanted to die (let alone admit to that little incident at Christmas when she'd literally been half a second away from blowing her brains out) would undoubtedly lead to getting the staff's undivided attention, and she didn't have any interest in welcoming the lack of privacy that would bring.

"I accepted that I would die. I was relieved, I wouldn't have to worry about any of this shit anymore, I could just...die, you know."  
"Have you felt suicidal?"

"No," Helena lied, "I've felt indifferent about dying. Like, I don't want to live but I don't really want to die either, but if I did die, I wouldn't mind."  
"Hm."

"Anyway, as you can see, I didn't die. So more shit kept piling up, and then this whole sorry mess with the fucking trial and Good's murder and Jane's suicide... I don't know what to do."  
"Well, that's why we're here, to figure it all out and help you get through this."

Doctor Wilkes went on to tell Helena she felt that the eye movement desensitization and reprocessing therapy would be just what Helena needed and explained the steps involved in EMDR therapy. Helena admitted it sounded a bit silly, how would making specific eye movements while discussing the worst things she'd ever experienced and forcing herself to relive them make her feel better? She didn't know, but she was hardly in a position to argue over the doctor's methods.

 _If it looks stupid but it works, it's not stupid_ , Helena thought.

Once the session was officially over, Adam returned to escort her back to the day room where she was greeted by the ever-cheerful Sera and her neverending questions.

"Happy, have you ever punched a bear?"  
"...why would I have punched a bear?" Helena frowned.

"Well, with all that army and cop training you told me you have, I figured if you'd want to, you could, yeah? Unless your trainers told you not to use your powers for punching bears."  
"No," Helena chuckled, "I was never specifically told I couldn't use my training to punch bears."

"Well, there you go then!" Sera said happily and then held out her hand, giving Helena a drawing which featured her punching a bear while Sera stole the honey comb the bear had taken from the oversized and happy-looking bees decorating the edges of the drawing.


	30. Chapter 30

**_Author's note: the lyrics Hunnigan "wrote" were borrowed from Carina Round's song called "Do you"._**

* * *

 _I am sorry, I am so, for the things you don't know, and as for the things you do, I am sorry for those too. I have thought and think about what and how to tell you, I have lived it seems without learning how to be true._

 _I was put together wrong, still I was made for you, when our stitches come undone, we come together like glue. Do you, do you want me? Do you know how to show, how to show these things? I just didn't want to have to ask, I just didn't want to have to, least of all people, you._

 _The hurt that the head forgets, the heart will always remember; the hold that the hand regrets, the heart remembers forever._

Nolan had composed and arranged the song into a great sounding whole, and the woman singing it sounded wonderful, but Hunnigan didn't think she'd ever get used to hearing someone else sing words she'd written when it came to songs that were as personal as this one. That song was written about Helena, the young woman singing it didn't even know Helena, and while she probably could relate to the words she sang, it wouldn't ever sound just right to Hunnigan because of that. Her inability to distance herself from some of the lyrics she wrote was the main reason she'd very quickly given up on trying to make a career out of it despite Nolan's encouragement to keep at it.

"What's wrong?" Nolan asked after swiveling around in his chair that was placed in front of the mixing console resting on a hardwood mixing table.  
"What?" Hunnigan looked at him and he sighed, slid the volume down and paused the song.

"I know that face. You don't like the song? You said the demo was fine, so..."  
"It is good, it's nothing like that, I've just got stuff on my mind," Hunnigan muttered.

"Yeah, I've noticed," Nolan smirked, turning his attention back to the console.  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Hunnigan frowned at her brother.

"You've been so distracted lately that even I've noticed it. And I have a pretty good idea why that is," he said. Hunnigan rolled her eyes, considering her line of work it wasn't difficult to imagine what might distract her, Nolan's obvious smugness over having figured it out was pointless.

Ever since Shepard had ordered Hunnigan and Harding to switch agents around so that Hunnigan was now Skylark and Hawke's handler, Skylark had done everything in her power to make Hunnigan's life at the office miserable. Harding had advised her "explain things to Skylark as if explaining them to a stupid person, and if she still doesn't get it, well, then we'll know which end the problem is at", and while that was good advice, it didn't help much when dealing with someone who was intent on being difficult.

 _Either that or then she genuinely just doesn't get it,_ Hunnigan mused.

Skylark was terrible at managing her time and schedule, she was constantly late with her reports, constantly making mistakes which she could've avoided had she paid attention rather than rushed because she'd created an unnecessary hurry for herself by dilly-dallying. And whenever Hunnigan tried to correct her —as kindly and reasonably as she could manage, she was a professional after all, and made sure her wording and interaction reflected that in case Skylark felt the need to bring it up with Shepard— she wouldn't listen because she genuinely did not care enough to want to do it correctly.

Hunnigan wondered how Harding had put up with it all this time, and why no one had done anything about Skylark's obvious attitude problem; Hunnigan knew she was just as challenging to everyone she worked with, she was just putting extra effort into it nowadays because she didn't like Hunnigan.

Unfortunately, as far as work on the field went, Skylark wasn't terrible, so she did deserve her position at the agency. Hunnigan just wished she'd stop being such a brat and did the other half of her job properly too, but Hunnigan was certain that was not something that would ever happen. Skylark was the type who never accepted blame or admitted she'd made a mistake even when someone proved she had, you don't go from being like that to taking responsibility.

"Well, aren't you a real detective," Hunnigan commented sarcastically.  
"You've been especially upset since your 'special friend' ran off to Florida rather than came home to you," Nolan continued and Hunnigan sighed in exasperation.

"Do I even want to know what you're talking about?"  
"Oh, come on! A couple of weeks ago you were so excited because Helena was coming home, then her homecoming was delayed by a month because she went to Florida to get a service dog," Nolan said.

"How do you know that?"  
"Mom mentioned it to me."

"How did _she_ know it?" Hunnigan asked.  
"Well, she was her lawyer," Nolan shrugged as if that explained everything. It didn't but Hunnigan didn't bother questioning it further, Nolan didn't seem to have an actual answer either.

"And for the record, I was happy that she was getting out because it had to mean she was doing better, what's wrong with being happy for my friend's recovery?"  
"Sure, sure, she's just a friend," Nolan rolled his eyes.

"Since when do you and mom discuss my friends with each other behind my back anyway?" Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow.  
"I make it a point to get to know the people whose one million dollar bail I pay," Nolan smiled lopsidedly.

"You got it back."  
"Yes and you're trying to change the subject."

"I didn't realize we even had a subject," Hunnigan muttered.  
"The subject is you're being moody because your 'friend', in other words the woman you are so hot for I could light a cigarette off your crotch when you're thinking about her—"

"Gross exaggeration," Hunnigan interjected.

"—didn't come home yet, and you should just admit it, it would make your life a lot easier."

"I have nothing to admit!"  
"Would telling you that you forgot to rename the songs before sending them to me help make my point?"

"Why would—" Hunnigan began but swallowed the rest when she remembered her working titles which had left very little to interpretation.  
"Yeeeaaaah," Nolan drawled with a grin.

"Shut up."  
"What I don't get is why haven't you just told her."

"Let's start with the fact that it would make things at the office awkward because people are already questioning my integrity when it comes to her," Hunnigan said.  
"Well, if they already think you're screwing her, why not give them a reason to think so?"

"It's not that damn simple, all right!" Hunnigan snapped. "She's got enough on her plate without me telling her I have a crush on her."  
"A crush? What are you, twelve?" Nolan snorted, and Hunnigan sighed.

He was right, it was much more than a crush but she hoped that if she kept denying it and downplaying it as much as possible, she'd eventually get over it. It hadn't worked so far, and the longer she found it impossible to stop thinking about Helena, the harder it became to deny that her feelings were beyond shallow attraction; it had been months, and she was still very much in love with Helena.

"Whatever you call it, it doesn't change anything, I can't tell her."  
"Why the hell not? Grow up."

"Because she's in a very fragile state and the last thing I want to do is add more pressure onto it all, she's already got her hands full coming back and figuring out how to fucking live again after all the shit she went through, I'd have to be pretty damn selfish and stupid to make everything about me and my stupid feelings in a situation like this!" Hunnigan ranted, her sudden agitation over the subject causing Nolan to raise his eyebrows curiously.

"Well, at least you're not defensive about it or anything," Nolan chuckled sarcastically.  
"Oh, shut up," Hunnigan sighed.

"Okay, look, I get it, and I know you're doing what's right by her, which is more than a lot of people would do. I just hope you won't completely put off telling her. I mean, as much as I enjoy the lyrics you write when you're pining over her, I'd love to see what you'd write when you're with her," Nolan smiled.

"I wish I was a robot," Hunnigan groaned and slumped to lay down on the leather couch Nolan kept in the studio. She reached for her guitar and picked it up before beginning to idly pick at the strings to play a random melody which then quickly and without conscious thought went from that to her playing the melody of The Turtles' song "Happy together".

"Why?" Nolan laughed and quirked an eyebrow after recognizing the song. Hunnigan didn't notice his obvious questioning.  
"Because then my behavior and moods wouldn't be governed by random chemical imbalances and hormones."

"Well, sorry to burst your bubbles but unless someone invents something, you're stuck in your meat suit just like the rest of us, and my advice is try to make the most of it."  
"I find it ironic hearing that from a man who snorted a ton of cocaine while drinking entire liquor stores empty just so he wouldn't have to feel so much."

"I can see the irony," Nolan agreed. "I miss cocaine," he then sighed wistfully and Hunnigan threw her guitar pick at him.

* * *

Hunnigan was almost embarrassed by just how giddy she felt the entire day she knew Helena was coming back to D.C. from Camp K9. She'd insisted on driving so she wouldn't be back until much after midnight after leaving Florida in the morning, and the later it got in the day, the harder it became for Hunnigan to remain patient. It seemed the less time there was until Helena would arrive, the slower time went by.

Despite her excitement, it was truly her son who was even more excited, though for different reasons. Hunnigan had explained to Seeley that her friend would be staying over at their home for a while and that she'd bring her dog with her. Ever since that, he hadn't stopped asking Hunnigan when they'd be arriving, to the point of Hunnigan regretting telling him about it so early, had she put it off she wouldn't have had to answer the same slew of questions daily for an entire week.

Seeley had insisted he get to stay up and wait for the arrival, and Hunnigan had allowed it, knowing already he would be fast asleep by ten p.m. and she'd been right. She tucked him in and went to the kitchen then, opening a bottle of rum she held in the cabinet, and mixing herself a rum and coke.

 _I guess I should thank mom for helping Helena with everything,_ Hunnigan mused as she stared at the family crest printed on the bottle's label.

After everything had been done and sorted, her interactions with Isabela had gone back to their distant and cool state, and Hunnigan did regret it. That said, she had been dreading to have a conversation with her mother about Helena after the question Isabela had posed.

 _She's more than just a friend, isn't she?_

Hunnigan didn't want to answer, especially not to her mother. Admitting it to Nolan had been painful enough because saying it out loud only made it more real, and if it became real, she would have to actually start dealing with it and coping with the fact that she shouldn't discuss it with Helena... who ironically was the one person she figured she should've discussed it with.

"Hello, kitten. Is everything all right?" Isabela asked when she answered the call.  
"Yeah, I just... realized I never properly thanked you for everything. And yes I realize it's been months but better late than never, so, thank you for helping my friend."

"You're welcome. How is _your friend_?" Isabela asked, emphasizing the last words in the same tone Nolan had come to use when talking about Helena, namely a voice that said he knew Helena was more than that. The fact that Isabela was using the tone of voice too only confirmed she and Nolan had been gossipping about the subject. Hunnigan wasn't sure if she should be offended or flattered by the fact that the two of them apparently deemed her personal life so damn interesting all of a sudden.

"She's... recovering," Hunnigan somewhat avoided, she didn't feel it was her place to discuss Helena's personal life with Isabela beyond that.

Helena had seemed to be doing rather well the times Hunnigan had visited her. She'd even admitted she'd come to appreciate the whole sharing in a circle-thing she'd previously looked down on and been unable to imagine helping in any way.

"That's good to hear. She deserves a break after everything."

Isabela didn't elaborate on what she meant, she couldn't have even if she'd wanted to, everything was privileged, but she didn't need to; Hunnigan wasn't born yesterday and if there was one thing she was good at, it was digging up information, and the things she found regarding Sergeant Kassandra Good were chilling and disturbing.

"Yeah, she does," Hunnigan muttered.  
"Was there anything else?"  
"No, I just... wanted to say thanks," Hunnigan said.

They spent a moment chatting about Seeley and Garrett and exchanging regards before Hunnigan finally wished her mother good night and ended the call. She fixed herself another drink and went to take a seat at her desk in the living room corner.

She leaned back in her chair and stared at the shadow box she'd taken from Helena's belongings; specifically she stared at the picture of a few years younger Helena in her dress uniform and tried to once again imagine what it must've been like. Hunnigan had been trying for a good while now but she still didn't think she'd managed to get even close.

She admitted she'd been one of those people Jane had deemed annoying sycophants in her manifesto, namely someone who had used phrases like "thank you for your service" and "I support the troops" without realizing almost no one really wanted to hear those platitudes. And that's all they were, platitudes, because that's where the support ended, at hollow words. She hadn't spared much thought to the ones serving because she'd had no reason to; aside from occasionally needing to coordinate with some high ranking military officers over some missions, she'd had no need to think of them.

The sad truth was the armed conflicts the country was involved in had become so ordinary it had turned into white noise. It was normal, nothing to bat an eye about. Just like enlisting at seventeen and being shipped off to fight at a war overseas was normal, admirable even. It shouldn't have been. Hunnigan hated to admit that she had not realized that until just recently either, and had it not been for her relationship with Helena, she doubted she ever would've realized it.

Hunnigan glanced at the ribbons on Helena's uniform and smirked wryly at the amount of them. She estimated Helena was probably around twenty years old in the photo and she already had racked up a handful of ribbons (Army commendation, good conduct, national defense service, Afghanistan campaign, global war on terrorism service, Army service and Army overseas service-ribbons to be exact— Hunnigan had needed to Google them to figure out what meant what), no wonder the generals had no room in the fronts of their uniforms for those.

 _I should probably put this away before Helena gets here,_ Hunnigan then realized and got up, picked up the shadow box and carried it into the small storage closet from where she decided she'd later take it to the rented storage space where the rest of Helena's belongings were.

She'd just finished doing that when there was a knock on the door. Hunnigan answered it, barely able to resist the urge to put her hands on Helena's cheeks and kiss her hard. Helena stood there with a blue brindle American Staffordshire Terrier, a dog Hunnigan recognized as Junkhouse-Charlie from the numerous pictures Helena had sent her over the past week or so ever since it had been made official Junkhouse-Charlie was the dog she'd been paired with. Based on what Helena had told her, Hunnigan could tell the dog had a rough past, but fortunately he'd come out of it all right.

He was a young former fighting dog, his career in the pits having fallen short because he wasn't the fighting-type nor very aggressive contrary to how dogs of his breed typically were. As a result, he had a piece of his left ear missing and visible scarring around his neck from where he'd been bitten by his opponent during his first and last fight. He'd been abandoned by his owner who'd left him to die but someone had stumbled upon the injured dog and seen to it that he got rescued, and from there he'd ended up going to get trained to be a service dog.

It didn't surprise Hunnigan that Helena had bonded with a dog that had a terrible painful past. But, just like Junkhouse-Charlie, she'd come through it and would recover in time.

"Hey, you! Welcome back," Hunnigan smiled and hugged Helena tightly for a few seconds before turning her attention to the dog that sat obediently by Helena's legs, staring up at the two humans.  
"Hello, Junkhouse-Charlie," she then greeted the dog, slowly reaching her palm out for him to sniff at before petting his head. He seemed to approve.

"Thanks, it's good to be back," Helena said quietly, smiling a little as she entered the apartment with Charlie.  
"You must be exhausted," Hunnigan then said, glancing at her watch; it was almost two in the morning.

"I really am, I'm on the verge of passing out, and I hate sounding rude but can I just get some sleep now? I suspect you have questions or things you wanna talk about but can it wait until tomorrow?" Helena requested tiredly.  
"Of course," Hunnigan agreed with a smile.

"Thank you," Helena exhaled in relief and turned to head to the living room.  
"Where are you going?"

"...the couch?" she offered.  
"Nonsense. You're my guest, you sleep in the bed," Hunnigan insisted.

"I don't..."  
"Helena. Just... come to bed."

 _How's that for a Freudian slip,_ Hunnigan thought and almost rolled her eyes at herself.

"Yeah, but Charlie might get on the bed too, I don't want to mess up your bed."  
"Helena, just go. I'll see you in the morning," Hunnigan ordered gently.

"...you're not coming with?"  
"I didn't realize you wanted me to."

"Well, no offense but I've slept on your couch and it's not comfortable. Besides, it's not like we're not used to sharing a bed," Helena smirked and Hunnigan chuckled.  
"Point taken," she agreed and went to the bedroom with Helena, Charlie walking beside Helena, looking around to familiarize himself with the environment and to ensure everything was all right.

Within a few moments, they were in Hunnigan's bed, Charlie taking up a spot by the bed on the side Helena was at, settling to rest on the floor. Within a few minutes the room grew quiet, and Hunnigan could hear from Helena's breathing that she'd fallen asleep.

"Oh," Hunnigan mumbled quietly when Helena turned to lay on her side, nuzzling into Hunnigan's neck, her arm reaching to rest over her midsection. Hunnigan smiled in the dark and reached to run her fingers through Helena's hair and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Bienvenue à la maison, ma chérie," she whispered.


	31. Chapter 31

Helena woke up to find Hunnigan's bed had grown rather crowded during the night. Charlie had jumped on the bed and was now resting on Helena's abdomen, dutifully guarding her sleep. To her side, in the spot between Helena and Hunnigan, was a little boy, the tip of his thumb in his mouth as he slept soundly in his mother's arms. Helena noted that his brown hair had gotten rather long since the last time she'd seen him and that it curled a little at the ends, a trait she was certain he'd inherited from his mother.

"C'mon, Charlie," Helena encouraged in a whisper, softly patting the dog's head and he got up and jumped off the bed, allowing Helena to get up as well.

After brushing her teeth, Helena meant to go feed Charlie but only then realized she hadn't prepared properly yesterday, she had forgotten to buy dog food. With that she decided to combine a morning walk with a quick trip to the corner store. She took a moment to look around for Hunngian's keys, and spotted them on the small table by the door. She left a note letting Hunnigan know where she was and took the keys.

"Okay, let's go," Helena smiled at Charlie after putting a leash and his vest (which identified him as a service dog) on him.

Once outside, Helena lit a cigarette and began heading toward the store, uncomfortably aware of the occasional long look passers-by gave her, muttering "Isn't that..?" in hushed voices. Helena sighed internally, she'd hoped that people would have forgotten about her already but apparently that had been too much to ask.

She managed to get to the store and get the items she'd gone out for before the odd anxiety began to claw its way up her throat.

 _What the hell is wrong with me?_ she frowned at herself. She'd never been bothered by crowds (any more than anyone would be at least), but now it suddenly felt like everyone was looking at her. Some certainly were, but most weren't, most didn't care, most hadn't even noticed her existence, but still she felt like everyone's attention was on her, and that they knew her past, knew the intimate details of her humiliation.

Rationally, she knew it wasn't possible, but unfortunately common sense didn't apply in the state she found herself. Charlie drew her attention to himself by nuzzling her palm and then licking it.

"Hey. Good boy, good Charlie," Helena smiled and petted him, continuing their walk back toward Hunnigan's apartment.

 _Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like? Random anxiety attacks over things I am imagining? How the hell am I supposed to get anything done? How am I supposed to work?_ Helena lamented internally and the simple answer was... she couldn't.

With enough medication and therapy, she supposed it would become manageable eventually, but the defiant part of her insisted it was wrong. She didn't want to take pills just to feel normal, it wasn't how it was supposed to be, she should've coped without. She had until now, why did that have to change.

 _You know why it has to change, you weren't coping, you were barely surviving, and life is supposed to be more than just surviving,_ Deborah's voice told her.

Helena sighed deeply. At least the voices in her head had grown less aggressive over the time she'd spent at the psychiatric hospital. She'd hoped they would be gone completely, but she didn't think that would ever happen no matter how many hours of therapy she attended and how many different cocktails of pills she tried.

Helena could smell coffee and toast when she entered the apartment, her stomach making a growling noise to not-so-subtly alert her to the fact that she was rather hungry. She took the leash and the vest off of Charlie and returned Hunnigan's keys to where she'd found them, and headed toward the kitchen. She stopped in her tracks and exhaled a sharp but quiet breath at the sight of Hunnigan.

 _My God, she's beautiful,_ Helena mused as she shamelessly and sheepishly just stared at her, the sunlight pouring in from the kitchen window tinting Hunnigan with rose gold, its glow framing her with bright light that made Helena think of majestic paintings of divine creatures in their fiery glory.

"Good morning," the goddess spoke, breaking the spell and bringing Helena back from her thoughts, returning her to the sunlit kitchen on a beautiful albeit rather ordinary August morning.

"Good morning," Helena finally greeted Hunnigan who stood by the stove, dipping bread into a mixture of egg and milk, and placed the slices on the skillet. Seeley sat at the table, busy with the _My little pony_ coloring book while his mother made breakfast.

"Doggie!" Seeley exclaimed happily upon noticing Charlie. He jumped down from the chair and was about to hurry over when Hunnigan gripped his arm and stopped him.  
"Buddy, we talked about this, you can't run up to doggies without giving them a moment to get to know you, okay? You don't want to scare them," she chastised gently.

"His name is Charlie," Helena said and knelt down by the dog, petting him and Hunnigan let go of Seeley and he walked over. Charlie nuzzled the boy and sniffed him thoroughly before leaning closer, his tail swaying from side to side as he allowed the little human to pet him.

"Good boy, good Charlie," Helena said with a smile.

"Am I a good boy?" Seeley turned to inquire from his mother who laughed heartily.  
"You're the best boy," Hunnigan responded and leaned to kiss the top of his head. "You need to get a haircut," she then added and ruffled his hair before turning her attention back to the French toast cooking in the skillet.

It took a while to convince Seeley that he should go wash up and get ready for breakfast, he would've rather spent the morning petting Charlie. It wasn't until Helena pointed out that Charlie needed to have breakfast too that he finally went to wash his hands.

"You still take milk in your coffee?" Hunnigan grinned after pouring Helena a mug.  
"Only if it's locally produced," Helena teased back and they laughed. "I'm never gonna live that down, am I?" Helena then sighed as she added milk (from a cow this time) into her coffee.

"Nope," Hunnigan confirmed.

She put the remaining pieces of toast onto a plate which she then placed in the middle of the table, adding a jar of jam and a cup of sugar afterward before finally taking a seat. Seeley returned from the bathroom, displaying his cleaned hands before going to take a seat at the table too, moving his coloring book out of the way, accidentally knocking over the glass of milk Hunnigan had poured.

Helena inhaled sharply and tensed up at that, the sight of the spilled liquid and the sound of it dripping over the edge of the kitchen table suddenly rushing her over fifteen years to her past, to the moment she'd made the mistake of being a clumsy child who'd knocked over a drink. Only in her case the drink had been her grandmother's vodka and coke, nothing as insignificant as a glass of milk. Granted, it wouldn't have mattered, the punishment would've been just as severe, Helena guessed.

Charlie once again drew her attention to himself by pawing at her knee, rising to lean against it so he could reach to nuzzle her face.

"Okay, okay," Helena chuckled, telling him he was a good boy and petting his head. _Poor dog's been with me for five minutes and he's already overworked because of how damn fucked up I am._

Helena expected Hunnigan to explode in a furious rant about how Seeley should watch what the hell he was doing and be more careful, followed by a few derogatory remarks regarding the kid's clumsiness, but she didn't. Of course she didn't, she wasn't Frances Harper, she was the opposite, she was the kind of a woman who raised a child, Frances had merely tolerated them out of legal obligation.

"Uhp, let's get something to clean that up with," Hunnigan said and began to wipe down the spilled milk (Charlie helping out by drinking up the drops that had landed on the floor).  
"Uh-oh, I'm sorry," Seeley muttered.

"It's okay, buddy, accidents happen," Hunnigan assured gently as she cleaned up, and once everything was back in order, she poured Seeley another glass of milk.

"Are you okay?" Hunnigan then quietly asked from Helena.  
"Yeah, I just, uh...would've gotten in so much trouble if I'd done that when I was a kid," Helena answered wryly, wishing she wasn't so damn easy to read for Hunnigan to notice every little thing triggering something within her.

They finished breakfast and Hunnigan told Seeley to get ready for daycare which was when he threw a tantrum, stating he didn't want to go because he wanted to stay home and play with Charlie.

"Well, I'm gonna be here for the day anyway, I can look after him if you want?" Helena offered.  
"No, thank you but no. Seeley, go get dressed. Right now," Hunnigan said sternly and he threw himself on the floor. Helena glanced at Hunnigan who shook her head a little, and Helena held Charlie back when he intended to go comfort the child.

 _Why won't she just let me babysit?_ Helena wondered quietly.

"Come on, let's go," she said and guided the dog out of the kitchen as Seeley began to cry, the kind of loud wailing a child would do just out of frustration rather than pain or sadness.

 _Sure, that's what good mothers do, they leave their kids in the care of mentally unstable people who have a history of violence, some of which they have personal experience,_ Helena thought sarcastically, feeling a hollow pang of guilt hit her chest when she looked back on the time she'd nearly strangled Hunnigan to death. She didn't think she'd ever forgive herself for that despite Hunnigan insisting it was fine because Helena hadn't been in control of herself at the time. That only made it worse, the implication of it still terrifying. If she so completely lost control once, what was stopping it from happening again?

Hunnigan began clearing the table as Seeley carried on with his act. She left the room and went to get dressed for work, and Helena had to struggle hard to keep from interfering. Surely Hunnigan knew what she was doing, as cruel as it did seem that she just left him to kick and scream on the floor.

By the time she returned, Seeley had dropped the act upon realizing he wouldn't be getting any attention. He sat up, still hiccupping and sniffling, and raised his arms, reaching toward Hunnigan. She grabbed a paper towel and wiped his red little face from tears and snot before picking him up in her arms.

"Are you done?" she asked from the boy as she hugged him to herself rubbing his back, and he nodded slowly. "You gonna go get ready?" she continued.  
"Yes," he muttered.

"Okay, good," Hunnigan smiled, kissed his cheek repeatedly and carried him to his room to get dressed. When they emerged a few minutes later, Seeley walked up to Charlie and hugged him.  
"You know, Charlie will still be here when you get home," Helena offered, hoping it would help tide the boy over the separation.

"He will?" Seeley inquired, turning to look at his mother.  
"Mm-hm, yes he will," Hunnigan confirmed with a smile. That seemed to brighten the boy's mood. He hugged Charlie once more, went to pick up his things and Hunnigan went to help him with his shoes.

"Make yourself at home, here's my spare key and the key to the storage unit if you want to go check up on your stuff," Hunnigan then said and handed Helena the keys.  
"Thank you," she smiled.

"Call me if you need anything," Hunnigan said and shouldered her laptop bag.  
"I think I'll manage," Helena chuckled.

"Yeah, but still, you know. Okay, ready to go, buddy?" Hunnigan then turned her attention to her son and he nodded, reached to take her hand and they walked out.

When a biosecurity officer at BWI airport forwarded the DSO information about a passenger who had been caught carrying an unknown biological agent on his person, she had no idea that by doing so she'd be ruining the rest of Ingrid Hunnigan's day and for reasons that were not obvious. Had this happened a few months ago, Hunnigan's job would've been simple; she would've needed to allocate some resources and transportation allowing her agents to deploy, give them the assignment and wait for updates before writing the final report upon closing the case and submitting said report to her superior officer who would file it away with the other closed cases to be brought up again when discussing funding and agency efficiency, their win-lose-ratio.

Those had been the simpler times when she'd had the pleasure of working with a pair of agents who were here to do their jobs rather than made it their mission in life to make Hunnigan's job annoying to do. Division of Security Operations special agent Mary Skylark, however, was an agent who fell into the latter category.

"Here's the receipts for the travel expenses you wanted, put them in the system for me, would you?" she said as she tossed a bulging unsealed envelope on Hunnigan's desk before taking a seat with her partner Hawke who had arrived with her to be briefed on the upcoming mission.

"Sure thing, honey; would you like me to tie your shoelaces for you too?" Hunnigan said sweetly and Hawke burst out laughing. Skylark gave her partner the stink eye and caught the envelope when Hunnigan threw it back at her.

"I know you like to believe otherwise, but I'm still your superior officer, and I think I've been rather generous with your constant overstepping the boundaries, but I've had enough."  
"You're pulling rank?" Skylark laughed.

"I'm simply wondering why you are expressing such difficulty doing the job you've been doing for several years now, and thinking that if you need me to do your job for you, maybe you should consider finding employment elsewhere."

"Well, how about _you_ do _your_ job and brief me," Skylark retorted and Hunnigan could see how much she struggled to keep herself from finishing the sentence in the word "bitch".

"You're going to Maryland," Hunnigan began and handed the agents the folders containing the paperwork with the details. She briefed them with what little information she had and sent them on their way. Once the briefing was over, Skylark left the room without as much as a word of goodbye, but Hawke lingered and Hunnigan gave her a questioning look.

"I was just wondering how Helena's doing. I tried texting her but she didn't respond, so I figured she didn't feel up to talking," Hawke said.  
"I think it's likely she never got the message because she had to get a new phone and a new number."

"Oh, okay."  
"Do you want me to give her your number?" Hunnigan asked, rather choosing to offer that than straight up give Helena's new number away; she didn't know if Helena wanted it being shared, even if there was no reason to assume she didn't, at least not as far as Hunnigan knew.

"Yeah, I'd appreciate that, thanks," Hawke smiled and then exited the office.

Hunnigan took her glasses off, sighed deeply and rubbed the irritated spots behind her ears, feeling the by now very familiar indentations left behind by her glasses, and knowing without even looking that she had a set of those on the sides of her nose too. She had considered going in for the laser surgery but after reading about the risks, she'd ultimately decided against it; even the slight possibility of ending up with serious nerve damage in her eyes was enough to convince her it wasn't worth it.

Besides, she typically only needed her glasses when reading, writing or driving, so as uncomfortable as they got when she wore them the entire day nonstop, it wasn't a big glanced at her watch and decided to call it a day, packed her laptop and set her phone to synchronize with her email so she'd get notifications if something happened. She walked out of the office and to her car, and the longer time passed, the more she found herself internally seething.

Since she was the type who tended to avoid confrontation even if it meant letting people get away with being dicks, being privately agitated to the point of wanting to commit murder was not a new feeling to her by any means, and she doubted she was the only person in the world who felt that way either. Ever since she'd been forced to work with Skylark on a daily basis, however, the feeling of silent rage had become almost a constant companion, and she caught herself muttering obscenities and insults and having daydreams about kicking the shit out of Skylark more often than she liked to admit.

 _Is this anger and the desperate urge to hit something what Helena has to live with every day? I mean, I've barely got a temper and I'm struggling to keep it together, how has she not snapped any more than she has?_ Hunnigan mused as she got into the car and drove out of the underground parking lot. She picked up Seeley from the daycare center and drove home, chatting with him about his day which he'd apparently spent mostly anxiously waiting to go home to play with Helena's dog.

When they got home, Seeley dropped his things at the door and hurried inside to find Charlie. Sighing, Hunnigan picked up his backpack and put it aside before heading into her bedroom to change out of the suit she was wearing. When she left the room a few minutes later dressed in a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants, she realized she could smell food. She let out a happy sigh at the thought because frankly the last thing she'd felt like doing after work was cooking.

"Welcome home," Helena greeted her when she entered the kitchen.

"You made dinner? Oh, God, I love you so much right now," Hunnigan said, realizing she'd let it slip half a second too late, just like she'd slipped a few months ago when she'd told Helena she was helping her because she loved her. That had been easier to save, though.

 _Come on, don't make it weird, don't explain, don't pause, don't get awkward or she'll figure out I meant it in_ that _way,_ Hunnigan mentally scolded herself.

"Uh, yes, yes I did, please, help yourself," Helena smiled.  
"Seeley, dinner time," Hunnigan called out.

"In a minute!"  
"No, now. You can play with Charlie afterward, okay?"

"But I'm not hungry!"  
"All right, fine, have it your way," Hunnigan gave up, too worn out from the constant fighting with Skylark and too hungry to bother arguing with her son. Instead, she grabbed a plate and helped herself to a generous portion of mashed potatoes and a perfectly browned chicken breast. Helena did the same and joined her at the table.

"You know what I just realized? No one's ever made dinner for me before."  
"Major didn't cook for you?" Helena asked, the smirk on her face telling she hadn't expected as much.

"He can barely heat a frozen pizza in the oven," Hunnigan snorted.  
"In that case I think he did you a favor by not cooking," Helena chuckled and took a seat at the table. "So, uh, how was work?"

"Skylark was her usual charming self which makes every day ten times more fun," Hunnigan said sarcastically and Helena frowned.  
"Why do you have to deal with her?"

"Oh...shit, I forgot to tell you. Shepard made some adjustments and I am now Skylark and Hawke's handler rather than your and Leon's."  
"...why?"

"It doesn't matter," Hunnigan dismissed awkwardly.  
"In other words it's got something to do with me, most likely it's my fault somehow," Helena deduced and Hunnigan sighed.

"No, and no. It's something he decided based on my performance, so it's my own fault if someone needs to be blamed, which they don't."  
"Well, it's not like I've been much use to the agency in a long while, and God only knows when I'm allowed back, Wilkes doesn't seem to be in a hurry to clear me," Helena muttered.

"Which she shouldn't unless it's certain that you're ready. I know you're impatient, but please, just...take the time, recover properly. Please."  
"...it's not like I have a choice...but thanks," Helena smiled wryly.


	32. Chapter 32

"Oh, shit, you've got it bad, don't you," Nolan smirked after reading the lyrics Hunnigan had given him and she sighed deeply. They were in his studio —which he referred to as his sanctum— where she'd gone over to play a guitar track for an upcoming single, and she was beginning to regret showing him the latest additions to her songbook.

"That's...a distinct possibility," she admitted reluctantly, slumped back on the couch and threw her arm over her eyes. "And why do you always make me regret showing you my vulnerable side?" she added in a humph, genuinely wishing he didn't know her well enough to know exactly what and who she wrote about, and that she didn't have the inexplicable need to offer her lyrics for him to make into music. At the end of the day no matter how much she wished, a bigger part of her always wanted to hear the end result because as much of a headache as he was at times, Nolan really was her other half when it came to this, and together they had the capability to put together masterpieces...or at least the occasional catchy tunes that would help pay for her son's education.

 _But God, at what cost,_ Hunnigan sighed internally as she looked over to see the smug shit-eating grin on her brother's face.

"Well, I mean, as far as I can see, I only stand to profit from your pining, but for your sake—"  
"We've been over this, and I haven't changed my mind," Hunnigan interrupted and Nolan rolled his eyes.

"What's so difficult about it, just find your fucking confidence and do it."

"I have no confidence, you got all of it in the womb, and I got the bad eyesight. And most importantly, she's in a very vulnerable state right now, some might go as far as to say she's more or less dependent on me at the moment. How do you think telling her would go over? Put yourself in her shoes, wouldn't you feel coerced?" Hunnigan scoffed.

"Well no, unless you intend to word it along the lines of 'love me back or I'll kick you out', which I doubt you'd do, so what is the problem, I don't get it," Nolan frowned.  
"I just can't, okay? So, stop bothering me about it."

"You know what, I would if it weren't so painful to watch you do this shit to yourself again, you keep letting others dictate your relationships and doing what you're told, but what do _you_ want?"

"It doesn't matter because I'm not selfish and irresponsible enough to go for what I want at the cost of other people. Some of us stop to think of the possible consequences of our actions," Hunnigan snapped and Nolan laughed wryly.

"How about the consequences of your inaction? She's gonna leave and you're gonna let her, and you'll spend the rest of your days wishing you hadn't, wishing that you'd at least tried because hey, maybe if you had, you would've found out that she wants you too."

"Shut up. Seriously, just...stop talking," she said, feeling pretty dumb realizing she honestly hadn't considered that the feeling might be mutual, and dreading the hopeful feeling swelling in her chest at the mere implication of a possibility. She didn't want to think about it and get stuck daydreaming about it until it became a distraction, an ultimately unattainable fantasy which would only end up making her depressed because deep down she was certain it could never become true.

"Fine, go on living your life as the emotionally constipated lesbian cliché that you are, but you know I'm right," Nolan had to have the last word on the subject, and Hunnigan ran a hand over her face.  
"Yes, you are," she admitted in a mutter and Nolan's eyebrows rose. He cupped his hand behind his ear and leaned in closer to his sister theatrically.

"I'm sorry, what? I didn't quite catch that."

"I said you're right, she's gonna leave and I'm gonna let her and I don't want to because I've gotten used to having her around all the time and I like having her there...even if she's a terrible neatfreak who constantly criticizes my housekeeping," she smirked.

"No, dude, she just seems like a neatfreak because you're a terrible slob," Nolan interjected and Hunnigan didn't bother arguing.

There was some truth to it, she had a bad habit of leaving things like clothes and books, coffee mugs and drinking glasses in places they didn't belong, but she considered that rather harmless. Helena on the other hand seemed to have some compulsive need to wash the dishes and thoroughly scrub the sink and faucets afterward; Hunnigan's tendency to leave dishes everywhere had come up frequently during their conversations, some might have gone as far as to call it nagging.

Hunnigan knew enough about Helena's past and about compulsions to have figured out Helena's need to clear the dishes immediately was most likely something that had become an important ritual for her when growing up, so she didn't take it personally and she did make an effort to pick up after herself better, but there were a lot of days she simply forgot. What disturbed Hunnigan about it all was realizing she didn't even mind being nagged at because she associated that with the whole "bickering like an old couple"—thing...and the thought of being an old couple with Helena was extremely appealing to her.

"I swear to God, you're the dumbest smart person I know. Rather than just let her go without a fight, give her a sign you fucking love her, idiot. You don't know, she might want to stay but it's not like she's gonna ask to, is it?" Nolan said.

"You make it sound so easy."  
"Because it is! What's the worst that could happen?"

Hunnigan took a moment to think about it and decided he had a valid point. Professionally, Shepard had already made sure she and Helena had been separated, so even if everything went to shit, it wouldn't necessarily get awkward at work. As far as the living arrangements went, she was relatively certain Helena was working on figuring something out, and in the meanwhile if she wanted to, she could stay at Hunnigan's apartment, maybe move into Seeley's room until she found her own place.

"I could get hurt," Hunnigan answered her brother's question, suddenly feeling herself on the verge of tears when she thought about being rejected.  
"Yeah, but the thing is...you already hurt, so...maybe take a chance and it might get better."

* * *

Saturday, September 6th 2014.

Charlie had taken up a spot in Seeley's room when it had become evident that the little boy needed comforting to be able to get to sleep; the passing thunderstorm had been too much for him to bear without the emotional support of Helena's service dog. The thunder and lightning had begun to pass, a calm rain pattering the window the only remnant left of the storm.

"If those two don't end up together by the end of the season, I will lose my faith in the writers," Hunnigan commented as she sat on the couch watching an episode of _Law &Order: Special Victims Unit _with Helena, who laughed heartily at Hunnigan's comment.

"It's complete gay bait, never gonna happen. Especially when considering this is from 2002, I don't think lesbians have been invented yet as far as the entertainment industry is concerned."  
"What about _The L-word_?" Hunnigan challenged.

"Pft, oh, you mean 'The Blatant Lesbian Exploitation Show' that consisted of shitty one-dimensional characters and revolved around the mentally unstable straight girl who wakes up one morning and decides she's a lesbian and then fucks everyone she can regardless of their gender, cheats on everyone and finally ends up dead in a swimming pool, you mean _that_ brilliant show that totally represents lesbians really well to the world?"

"Wow, tell me how you really feel," Hunnigan chuckled.  
"My point is...when it comes to TV and movies, the rule is that if there's two female characters with undeniable chemistry, they will not end up together. Or if they do, one of them ends up dead two minutes later."

"Well, that seems stupid," Hunnigan scoffed, took a sip of red wine and leaned back on the couch.

"It is exactly that. But, kudos for even noticing the lesbian-vibe, most straight people wouldn't even realize to look for it," Helena complimented and Hunnigan scoffed again, this time into her wine glass as she went to take another drink from it.

"Bold of you to assume I'm straight."  
"Oh, yes, the fact that you were married to a man and that you've deemed his penis beautiful really gives me a reason to think you're not straight," Helena drawled sarcastically and Hunnigan rolled her eyes.

"Ever heard of bisexuality?"

"Well, excuse me for not having any reason to think you're bi," Helena muttered, but it was a lie. She had plenty of reason if the video of Hunnigan kissing the drummer of the band she'd played in as a teenager was anything to go by. That said, she couldn't very well admit as much unless she wanted Hunnigan to realize she'd pried into her life. Not to mention what she'd seen had taken place when Hunnigan had been a teenager, Helena didn't think there were many teenaged girls who hadn't kissed another girl or at least thought about it, and then went on to date men exclusively.

"Fair point," Hunnigan shrugged one shoulder. "Oh, good God, she got bangs," she then exclaimed when another episode began and the woman playing the assistant district attorney made an appearance sporting a new haircut.

"I know, right? Who the hell thought that bangs were a good haircut for anyone ever?" Helena agreed.  
"Bangs are acceptable only on people who have gigantic foreheads," Hunnigan said and Helena burst out laughing. "What?" Hunnigan chuckled at her sudden reaction.

"I just think this is the closest I've gotten to girl talk in my life. You know, talking about shows and haircuts, and shit like that."  
"Careful, next thing you know we'll be talking about our periods and swapping 'most uncomfortable period-experience ever'-stories," Hunnigan smirked and refilled their wine glasses.

"China, summer of last year, being chased by monsters and zombies, feeling a million different kinds of gross and uncomfortable because my stomach's a mess, I'm sweating like a horse, and on top of all that I was accompanied by Leon," Helena listed, and Hunnigan gasped.

"Oh, no!"  
"Oh, yes."

"Poor baby," Hunnigan said through a chuckle she tried hiding into her wine glass as she took a drink.  
"Yeah, it's become one of those 'I'll laugh about it later'-things, and now is later, so go ahead," Helena gave permission, and Hunnigan shook her head.

"No, no, that is...absolutely not funny at all," she held up her finger, obviously sucking in the insides of her cheeks in a desperate attempt to keep a straight face.  
"I told you mine, you tell me yours."

"Back when the band was touring, I got to spend quite a bit of time on a tour bus, and a bus toilet is not exactly ideal when you're on your period. Mostly because you can't really wash up properly, and also it's so cramped in there, imagine trying to fit my horse-legs in the tiny room and trying to find the space to, uhm, spread out to handle a tampon-situation," Hunnigan said.

"Horse-legs?" Helena guffawed.

"Yeah! It wasn't bad enough that I had to kind of stretch one of them through the door to be able to fit there, what made it worse was that someone had to kind of, you know, stand guard at the door, and who do you think did that?"

"Your brother?"  
"My dad!"

"Well, awkward, sure, but kudos to him being there for you, most dads would probably just play dead rather than deal with their daughters' menstrual cycle," Helena smirked, took a drink of wine and and continued, "also, there's nothing horse-like about your legs, they're gorgeous so shut up."

"Nah, I'm—"  
"Stop, I'm not arguing about this, you're tall, dark and gorgeous, and that's the truth, I wish I was too, but I'm just bitchy and pasty," Helena chuckled.

"Well, thank you, I guess."  
"You know, I think you might actually be the coolest person I've ever met."

"Me? I'm the furthest thing from cool," Hunnigan laughed heartily.

"Are you kidding me? You were in a rockband, and not just some bad garage band, but like an actual band, you have fans, you're so smart and so fucking talented, and on top of that you've got that beforementioned tall, dark, and gorgeous-thing going on."

"I don't think any of those things are as impressive as what you did."  
"What do you mean?" Helena frowned.

"You enlisted at seventeen and went overseas to save lives, and based on what I've seen you did a helluva job at it, that's far more impressive than anything I did," Hunnigan shook her head and Helena smiled ruefully.  
"You make it sound like I had a choice."

"Oh...Helena, I didn't...Oh, God, I'm sorry, I didn't think that through, I'm so sorry."  
"It's all right," Helena assured gently.

"Okay, I can't watch this anymore, it's too much," Hunnigan then changed the subject after a moment of somewhat awkward silence, nodding toward the TV.  
"It's fine by me, I was just about to call it a night anyway, it's getting pretty late," Helena said, and Hunnigan glanced at her watch.

"You have a point, I think I'll come to bed too," she agreed and Helena smiled at the phrasing. "Come" to bed, not "go", because it was a bed they shared, and as silly as it maybe was, thinking about that made Helena feel warm and fuzzy inside.

In the past couple of weeks going to sleep with Hunnigan and waking up next to her had become the routine. There'd been mornings she'd woken up to find herself practically tangled with Hunnigan, her ear to the taller woman's heart, their limbs intertwined, and those mornings she would've given almost anything to never have to leave the bed. In a way the most brilliant part of it all was the fact that neither of them discussed any of it afterward, there was no need for that because somehow, wordlessly and effortlessly, sharing a bed had become the most natural thing in the world, there'd been no awkwardness about it.

Several minutes later, Helena lay awake still, listening to Hunnigan's breath, secretly enjoying the warmth radiating from Hunnigan's side to Helena's back as they lay close to each other, almost touching but not quite. After taking another moment to listen carefully, she determined from the depth and pace of Hunnigan's breath that she was still awake too.

"Hey," she whispered after turning to face Hunnigan.  
"Mmm?" she muttered a response and though it was too dark to see the movement, Helena could hear the swish of Hunnigan's hair brushing against the pillowcase as she turned her face toward Helena.

"Can we talk for a bit?" she asked.  
"Sure, what's on your mind?" Hunnigan said and Helena moved a little to get into a more comfortable position only to hit her forehead against Hunnigan's elbow.

"Ow, shit," she hissed.  
"Sorry, sorry, sorry, here I go again with my horse-limbs, are you—"

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't know you had your hands behind your head and elbows out," Helena chuckled awkwardly as she rubbed the point of impact to expel the dull ache.  
"Still there," Hunnigan said when Helena felt around for the location so she'd know to avoid it. "And that's my armpit, I will hurt you if you tickle me," she added, a smirk audible in her voice.

"I wasn't going to, I'm just trying to figure out where I can put my head," Helena scoffed amusedly.  
"Just put it on my arm," Hunnigan offered, and Helena was certain she could hear a faint trace of nervousness in her voice. She couldn't tell if it was good or bad nervous, though.

She rested her head on Hunnigan's bicep and inhaled sharply when she felt Hunnigan's breath brush against her lips and realized just how close they were.

"How do you keep your feet so soft?" Helena asked and Hunnigan laughed a little.  
"That's what you wanted to talk about?" she asked, and Helena felt a cascade of tingles run up her leg and along her spine when Hunnigan made a point of rubbing her foot against Helena's shin.

"No, but I just realized it and want to know," Helena muttered with a smile, adjusting her leg a little, encouraging the touch.  
"Obscene amounts of lotion, that's why my socks are always squishy," Hunnigan replied. "So, what was on your mind?" she then inquired and Helena had to take a second to comprehend Hunnigan was expecting an answer; her mind was still preoccupied with the subtle touches.

It wasn't like they hadn't been close to each other before, held each other even, but this time it felt...different. Somehow more intimate. The touches weren't just superficial and casual, if anything they were failed attempts to seem accidental when in reality they were very much done with purpose.

 _Does she want me, like I want her?_

"I, uh...just wanted to say that I'm really glad you got snowed in with me that day. I don't even want to imagine where I'd be if you hadn't and if we hadn't become friends," Helena began and swallowed hard against her heart pounding in her chest when she felt the tip of Hunnigan's nose touch her own.

 _So close. Oh, God, how am I supposed to not kiss her?_ she thought and pinched her lips together tightly to prevent herself from doing what her body was demanding her to do; all it would take would be the tiniest nudge forward, and finally she'd—

"I'm glad too, really glad, you're the best friend I've ever had," Hunnigan said and Helena could hear the smile in her voice.

"Also, I wanted to apologize for having overstayed my welcome, I have actually been looking for a place but it's kind of challenging to scrounge up first month's rent and the deposit, especially since this furlough leaves me with only two thirds of my salary, and—"

"It's okay, trust me, you can...I mean...you haven't overstayed, I like having you here. Frankly, I..." Hunnigan trailed off slowly and Helena held her breath when she felt Hunnigan move her hand to cup Helena's face.  
"Yeah?" she encouraged her to continue, closing her eyes at the gentle touch, turning her head slightly to press her cheek more into Hunnigan's palm.

"I want you to stay."  
"Y-you do?" Helena stammered a little.

"Yes, very much so," Hunnigan confirmed and slid her hand over Helena's cheek, resting her fingers gently on the back of Helena's neck, caressing her face with her thumb.  
"If you're sure."

"Of course I am," Hunnigan chuckled a little.  
"...I would love to stay."

"Helena?"  
"Yes?"

"...can I kiss you?"  
"I think I might just die if you don't."


	33. Chapter 33

"Helena, you're practically skipping, what's got you in such a good mood and on a Monday of all days? Have they reinstated you?" Leon asked when he ran into her at the DSO. "And who's this stylish fella?" he asked and leaned down to greet Junkhouse-Charlie who stood dutifully at Helena's side, a red bandana loosely tied around his neck, a detail Hunnigan's son had insisted on after having seen a dog on TV wear one. She introduced the dog to Leon who gently ran his hand over the dog's head.

"I came here to see about doing desk duty," she said. It was beginning to seem that Doctor Wilkes had no intention of clearing Helena for field duty any time soon, and she was quickly getting more than a little bored, and as boring as desk duty was, it still beat staying at Hunnigan's apartment doing nothing all day.

 _Correction, staying at home,_ she mentally revised herself, still not quite used to the thought. Granted, it had only been a couple of days since she'd given herself the permission to call it home.

"You can't be that happy about the prospect of desk duty," Hawke commented as she walked up to them with a coffee mug in her hand. Helena repeated the introductions with Hawke who also took a moment to greet Charlie, telling him she was certain her dog Grunt would love to meet Charlie and hang out with him some time.

"Good to see you," she then smiled and reached to give Helena a half-hug, to which she responded in kind.

"Likewise, and you're right, that's not it, especially since I apparently don't qualify even for desk duty around here nowadays," Helena said, feeling a ridiculous grin spread on her face, the expression contradicting her words. "I spent yesterday in bed with the most amazing woman," she sighed happily. It was a slight exaggeration, she and Hunnigan had gone out to the park with Seeley before taking him over to Major's house, and they'd taken a couple of long walks with Charlie, and done their everyday chores, but beyond that they hadn't left the bed.

"In bed? You told me you don't like sex," Hawke pouted and Helena rolled her eyes with a smile, aware of the quirked eyebrow Leon directed at her in silent question, obviously wanting to know why would Hawke know that detail about her. At least he had the common sense not to ask out loud.

"I don't, we didn't have sex, it was better than sex! We held each other and talked and kissed," Helena listed.  
"Gross," Hawke smirked and pretended to stick a finger down her throat to emphasize her disgust.

"Don't listen to her, you deserve to be happy and in love, and I'm happy for you," Leon smiled sincerely.  
"Thanks," Helena smiled back.

"And I'm just busting your balls, I'm happy for you too," Hawke chimed in, "but now the people want to know who is the mystery lady?" she added then and Helena hesitated. She had no idea if she was allowed to tell, she hadn't discussed it with Hunnigan. Knowing her, Helena suspected she would prefer keeping her personal life well-guarded from the office gossips. Fortunately, Helena didn't need to resort to outright lying because a sudden and a very loud yell drew everyone's attention.

"You did what!"  
"Uh-oh," Hawke winced, seeming to have an idea of what had upset Hunnigan badly enough to start yelling.

"What's going on?" Helena questioned and Hawke made an uncomfortable sound.

"Well, a couple of weeks ago Skylark and I went to check up on a guy who got picked up by biosecurity officers at the airport. The suspect set off all the alarms but none of the tests available over there told them what exactly was the problem, just that there was one, so we went in and tried to question the guy but he wasn't talking, so...we had him moved to Shadow post...without clearing it with Hunnigan first," she explained.

"Oh, shit," Leon said and clamped his hand over his chin and rubbed his unshaven cheeks causing a raspy scratching sound. "That would piss Hunnigan off," he scoffed amusedly.  
"I'm sorry, what, what is happening?" Helena asked, and Leon chuckled.

"Aw, listen to baby-agent here," he said and raised his hand with the intention to ruffle Helena's hair and she dodged and swatted his hand away, held up her index finger in front of him and gave him a death glare until he raised his arms in surrender and took a step back.

"Shadow post is what people like to refer to as a black site," Hawke elaborated.

"We...the DSO has a black site?" Helena frowned, then wanted to slap herself for almost stating that it was illegal but that would've been like pointing out that water is wet and fire is hot. It came as no surprise that the agency nicknamed "The president's sword" would operate above the law to some extent at least, or that everyone was at the very least willing to turn a blind eye to their indiscretions.

The only surprise here was that Helena genuinely had thought better of the DSO. In the agency's defense, that was on her; they hadn't given her any reason to assume they were better than the military or the CIA, but she had anyway. She'd thought they were above unlawful detainment, torture, murder...but evidently not. What made it worse was realizing Hunnigan knew, and evidently didn't shy away from going that far or turning to look away from the atrocities committed in the name of the ends justifying the means.

 _I'm not even sure I want to work here anymore...but what else am I supposed to do, it's not like anyone would hire someone with my track record,_ Helena thought.

"Yeah, we just came back to give a debrief of what's been done so far and get advice on how to proceed," Hawke said. Helena didn't ask for more details, certain that Hawke wasn't in a position to disclose any, especially not to her, the DSO's infamous and very publicly disgraced problematic rookie agent who'd by now spent more time on furlough than actually working.

The door to Hunnigan's office opened and Skylark marched out, followed shortly by Hunnigan. No one brought up the yelling from earlier but rather pretended they hadn't even heard it.

"Hey, uh, I was just about to go grab some lunch, you guys wanna join me?" Leon asked.  
"I could eat," Helena nodded.

"Yeah, sure. What about you?" Hawke asked Hunnigan.  
"Sorry, I can't right now," she shook her head as she walked past them, but took a moment to pet Charlie's head and then paused to softly touch Helena's upper arm while continuing on her way, telling her she'd see her later.

"See you," Helena smiled at her and noticed the way Leon and Hawke exchanged a knowing glance and a smirk.

After a short walk to the nearby diner, they were seated in a booth and making their orders, Charlie taking a spot under the table, settling to lay at Helena's feet. Once the waitress had gone to deliver the order, Hawke leaned her elbows to the table, pressed her palms together and made a steeple of her fingers, resting her chin upon it. Leon crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in the corner of the booth, grinning a little bit, and Helena barely resisted the urge to reach over and smack that look off his face.

"Where were we? Ah, yes, you were about to tell us who the woman you literally just slept with is," Hawke said and wiggled an eyebrow.  
"Why would I tell you, I don't kiss and tell. And most importantly, why do you care?" Helena laughed and took a drink from the glass bottle of Mexican Coke she'd ordered.

"I just need to know if I was right, so all you gotta do is just confirm what I already know," Hawke said, sounding very confident in herself. Granted, with good reason, but Helena didn't want her to know that.  
"And what is it that you think you know?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"That it's obviously none other than a certain tall intelligence liaison."  
"How would you react if I told you that you're wrong?"

"I'd be disappointed in you for being a liar," Hawke said.  
"I've known Hunnigan for ten years and she's never touched my arm or given me a smile as nice as the one she just gave you," Leon chimed in and Helena scoffed.

"Yeah, there's a reason women don't generally touch men like they do other women, and it's because y'all tend to think that it means we want to fuck you even if we're just being friendly, so sorry, but lack of physical contact with you means absolutely nothing," Helena said.

"She's right, you know," Hawke nodded and then turned her attention back to Helena, "but that said, Hunnigan isn't as touchy-feely with me, nor have I seen her be that way with any other female agent either."  
"She touched my arm as she was walking by, that's not touchy-feely!"

"What about the breastmilk-incident?" Leon interjected and Helena gave him the most furious glare she could muster before proceeding to kick his shin under the table, startling him and Charlie.

"The what-incident?" Hawke blinked in surprise.  
"She drank Hunnigan's breastmilk," Leon grinned evilly while rubbing the sore spot on his shin and Helena buried her face in her hands, wondering if she could convince Charlie to tear out Leon's throat.

"For the love of...No, I didn't, not in the way you're imagining it anyway! There was nothing sexual about it, she had some in her fridge when she was still breastfeeding her son, I thought it was just milk and put it in my coffee, I didn't know, okay, so stop making it sound filthy, you perverts," Helena groaned.

The waitress came by with their meals, and judging from the look on her face, she'd heard just enough the conversation to regret having heard it. Helena had never felt this level of embarrassment, not even when the notorious breastmilk-incident had happened.

"So, how's everyone doing? I see the agency is still running without me, disappointing but expected," Helena changed the subject as she dug into her chicken sandwich, cut out a piece of meat and gave it to Charlie before proceeding to take a bite herself.

"You know, same old, same old," Hawke shrugged.

"I am going to be off-duty for the rest of the year. And before you make assumptions, no, I wasn't ordered to, I've just got a ton of vacation time accumulated and I told Shepard he'd better give me time off or I'll ask for the overtime in cash instead," Leon chuckled and ate a chunk of the breaded catfish fillet he'd ordered.

"That sounds like fun, any plans?" Hawke asked.  
"I'm going on a road trip with Claire, we're gonna ride across the country on motorcycles. I know it's getting a bit late in the season for that, but we'll head South, it'll be fine," Leon smiled.

"The same Claire you embarrassed by drunkenly screaming about that Neil-guy under her window?" Helena taunted, and Leon blushed.  
"It's beginning to sound like you two have a lot of inside stories I gotta get in on," Hawke chuckled.

* * *

Helena waited for Charlie to get into the backseat of Hunnigan's 1995 Chevrolet Camaro and sat in the driver's seat once he'd settled into his spot.

 _Oh, right, horse-legs,_ Helena smiled a little when she realized she needed to pull the seat forward noticeably to be able to drive, and just as she did that, Hunnigan sat into the passenger's seat and in contrast to Helena's action, she hit her knee against the glovebox.

"God...damn it!" she hissed and rubbed her knee vigorously to ease the pain. "I knew that was gonna happen, why don't I ever learn?"  
"Want me to kiss it better?" Helena asked and Hunnigan smiled.

"Maybe later," she said, adjusting the seat and opening her laptop, the main reason Helena was doing the driving being that Hunnigan wanted to keep working during the drive home.  
"So, is there anything I can help you with?" Helena asked, started the car and began making their way out from the parking garage.

"I'm just...I have a gut feeling that something's not right about this case. I mean, this guy was caught with an unknown viral agent because he got pulled aside for a 'random' screening by the TSA," Hunnigan muttered.  
"And?"

"And if you were attempting to smuggle a viral sample from Europe to the US, why would you choose a smuggler who would almost certainly get caught because of racial profiling? The racism is an open secret so if you want to successfully smuggle something in, get a smuggler who's the modern equivalent of the white housewife from the fifties," Hunnigan said, and Helena pursed her lips as she thought about it and sadly had to agree with Hunnigan's point.

"Did they actually find a sample on him?" Helena continued questioning, a theory beginning to form in her mind the more she thought about it.  
"No, but he came in contact with something that's a major red flag."

"So, we don't know what the virus is exactly?"

"We don't, just that it definitely looks like a biological weapon, there's some resemblance to known substances but nothing we can pinpoint...which is troubling because it just means it might be a new mutation against which we have no vaccines," Hunnigan blew out a breath and ran her hand through her hair in frustration.

"I take it the smuggler hasn't said anything," Helena cleared her throat a little, already knowing he hadn't based on what she'd overheard earlier.  
"No. I don't get it."

"Maybe he wanted to get caught. Or, the person who hired or coerced him wanted him to get caught."  
"But why?" Hunnigan frowned.

"...maybe it's a trap. He didn't have a virus on him, maybe he's infected. Maybe he wanted to expose people at the airport or maybe he knew he'd be caught and the DSO or any other government agency is the target," Helena theorized.

"We've had him in custody for a couple of weeks now, he hasn't shown any symptoms," Hunnigan shook her head a little.  
"We have, have we?" Helena muttered.

"What does that tone of voice mean?" Hunnigan asked.  
"I just...overheard Hawke say the suspect has been moved to a black site. And...I just didn't think sending people to Shadow post would be something you'd do," Helena shrugged one shoulder.

"Please, believe me, I don't condone it, but sometimes—"  
"Yes, I am aware of all the excuses, and I know, a little torture in exchange for countless of lives saved shouldn't even be a debate if you ask some people, but I don't like it," Helena interrupted.

"It's not torture, not the way you think, and I'm willing to—"

 _"—_ _willing to do whatever the fuck it takes to end this God damn war!"_ Jane's voice crashed through Helena's mind out of the blue and for a few seconds she could clearly see the redhead's furious face in front of her as she had the day she'd yelled those words into Helena's face when Helena had questioned her humanity when she'd expressed her support for the soldiers accused of murdering civilians and planting assault rifles on the bodies afterward to make it look like they'd instigated the violence.

"—live with those things on my conscience if it means it was necessary and worth it," Hunnigan defended her view before turning her attention to her laptop, beginning to type out an email, undoubtedly to whoever was on location at the black site to let them know of Helena's theory.

Helena didn't comment, still debating whether to get into it with Hunnigan now or not. It would happen eventually, it would need to because Helena had no intention of just accepting it, but this perhaps wasn't the right time.

Helena pulled to a stop at a red light and sighed. She sincerely hoped the suspect had been tested properly for every known virus. Just because there'd been no symptoms didn't mean he wasn't infectious. Had the agent in charge of the field operation been anyone other than Skylark, Helena would've felt more at ease.

"Has it ever not been worth it? Is the DSO responsible for illegally detaining and interrogating people who genuinely hadn't done anything wrong?" Helena questioned despite herself and Hunnigan exhaled deeply, took her glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose, a long silence hanging over them as Hunnigan didn't answer. The light turned green.

"I don't want to do this anymore," Helena said, deciding to spare Hunnigan from having to lie.  
"What are—"

The next thing Helena knew, she felt herself being violently thrown to the left, a loud crash of screeching metal, breaking glass, and the hellish noise of a car horn blaring faintly registering before she lost consciousness after the impact, her head resting against the cracked driver's side window.


	34. Chapter 34

Helena came to when she felt Charlie licking her face and heard him whine and whimper.

"What..oh, shit. Okay...okay, good boy, okay, hold on..." she breathed, reached to gently pat him and took a few seconds to get her bearings and figure out what had happened. Someone had run a red light and hit them as they'd been crossing the intersection. Helena knew she shouldn't move around excessively, but decided that since she couldn't feel any immediate aches and pains, she could risk it.

"...Hunnigan?" she muttered and reached over to feel her neck, letting out a tiny sigh of relief at the steady pulse she felt beat against her fingertips. She looked down and the amount of blood she saw was somewhat alarming, as was the way Hunnigan's legs were pinned underneath the caved in dashboard, there was a wound on Hunnigan's leg left behind by a sharp piece of twisted metal, but Helena couldn't see a heavy flow of blood hemorrhaging nor did she see any bones protruding anywhere; that gave her some hope that the situation wasn't as bad as it could've been.

Charlie whined in the backseat and Helena looked over to him. He seemed to be all right physically, just stressed and scared. He'd been behind the driver's seat, furthest place away from the point of impact, the front of the car having taken the most of the damage.

"Okay, it's okay buddy, we're okay," Helena tried to comfort him and then turned to try and open the door. Of course it didn't open, why would anything be easy?

With a groan she pulled back, turned sideways and leaned over to the passenger's side, drew her knees to her chest and kicked the window repeatedly until it shattered and she could crawl out through it. She captured Charlie into her arms as he followed her, and carried him over the sharp shrapnel on the road and ordered him to stay, which he reluctantly did.

"There's been a car accident, we need an ambulance," she heard someone say to a phone, and she went over to the young man talking to the dispatcher.  
"And the fire department, advise them that the victim is pinned," Helena said and the young man repeated this into the phone.

 _Come on. Not now. Not now, not now, not now,_ Helena ranted mentally as she felt herself starting to lose her grip on where she was and what was happening, her mind glitching back to Afghanistan, fragmented flashes of the aftermath of hitting an IED crossing her mind and dragging her down, threatening to paralyze her. Charlie disobeyed his order and jogged over to her, pawing at her leg to get her attention and stuck his nose into her palm.

"Thanks, boy. Good boy, okay, good Charlie," Helena told him, kissed the top of his head and went back to the car when the ambulance and the fire department arrived at the scene. The paramedic insisted that Helena gets checked out at the hospital, stating that she could have a concussion, but she had no intention of going anywhere.

"I'm fine! Don't worry about me, help her!" she snapped, pointing at the wreck.  
"Her legs are encased, we're gonna have to cut her out of there, but we need to stabilize her neck first," a firefighter said.

"It's too tight for me to get in there, and she's still unconscious," the paramedic commented after peeking in.

"I can get back in the same way I got out," Helena said and without waiting for the rescue workers' approval, she climbed back in through the broken window and then shimmied her way over to the backseat. The paramedic instructed her to put her hands on either side of Hunnigan's head, and Helena complied.

"Helena..?" Hunnigan mumbled groggily.  
"I'm here, try not to move, okay?"

"What happened?"  
"We were in an accident, but everything's okay, I promise, I'm right here, you're gonna be fine, just don't move," Helena reassured as she supported Hunnigan's head with her hands.

"Here, put this around her neck, chin goes there," the paramedic said and handed Helena a neck support, and she carefully put it in place.  
"She's got a pretty deep-looking wound on her thigh and she's bleeding a lot, we have to get her out," Helena told him.

"I understand but we need to stabilize her first. Here," he said and handed her a bag of saline. "Look for a big vein and slide the needle parallel to her arm, toward yourself," he instructed and Helena nodded repeatedly. This she knew how to do and it didn't take long for her to get the cannula in and hook up the tubing.

"We're gonna get you out of here, don't worry, just don't move, almost done," Helena kept repeating as she squeezed the bag in her hand to set the fluid in motion.

"All right, I want you to put this over her and yourself so you won't get injured, we're gonna have to break the windshield and the read window before we cut you out of there, okay? There's gonna be a lot of loud noise, but you'll be safe," a firefighter assured and handed Helena two coats.

Helena hung the vinyl bag between her teeth and draped the firefighter's coat over Hunnigan and then over herself, diving underneath it so that the firefighters could do their job.

"We're gonna get you out of there, just hang on, almost there, I promise, just hold on," Helena said into Hunnigan's ear and gently kissed her temple as the loud creaking noise could be heard as the heavy machinery pried the crushed car apart, separating the caved in front from the body, then proceeded to cut through the pillars.

"All right, her legs are free," a firefighter called out and Helena dug herself and Hunnigan out from underneath the coats.  
"Ma'am, I'm gonna need you to exit the vehicle so we can fit the spine board in," the paramedic told Helena once the roof of the car had been removed.

"No, Helena, don't leave," Hunnigan cried out when the younger woman moved.  
"I'm right here, I'm gonna be right next to you, I promise," Helena said, her left hand around the bag of saline, the other now firmly squeezed in Hunnigan's panicked grip.

She stood by the wreck when the paramedics carefully went to slide the board between Hunnigan and the car seat, strapped her in and finally pulled her out of the wreck and carried her to the ambulance, Helena getting in with them.

"Can someone, please, bring my dog Charlie? Please, he's—"  
"I've got it, ma'am," one of the firefighters promised with a smile before shutting the ambulance doors and they began heading toward the hospital.

"I think I'm a bad luck charm. First you get snowed in with me, then you have a heart attack and now this," Helena chuckled through tears. Hunnigan offered a weak smile as the paramedics checked her blood pressure and got her started on pain medicine after deeming it safe.

"Maybe...you're my good luck charm...always there to save me," Hunnigan said tiredly and closed her eyes, her grip loosening, her hand slipping away from Helena's.

* * *

"What the fuck happened?" were the first words out of Hunnigan's mouth when she opened her eyes and seemed to realize she was in a hospital bed, Nolan and Helena sitting by her side.

"Some brat ran a red light while joyriding in a stolen SUV and crashed into us. Not a scratch on him, but you got a concussion and a fractured humerus, and your legs are pretty banged up but amazingly and thankfully nothing's broken worse than that," Helena summarized.

The bed Hunnigan was in had been raised so that she was sitting upright, her right arm was in a sling, a sturdy brace covering it from shoulder to elbow, her wrist resting in a narrow sleeve that was attached to the strap tightened across Hunnigan's chest. She didn't seem to be in any pain but Helena was certain it was mostly because she was under a heavy dose of painkillers, and judging from the drowsy and somewhat sheepish look on her face, Helena supposed said painkillers were a member of the opioid-family.

"Are you all right?" Hunnigan asked.  
"Yeah, just banged my head and bruised my ribs a little, nothing to worry about," Helena assured.

"My head feels weird."  
"It's because you're high," Nolan smirked and Hunnigan laughed.

"You jelly, bro?"  
"Yes, very much," he chuckled.

"They want to keep you overnight for observation," Helena then said and Hunnigan nodded a little, having trouble keeping her eyes open. She sucked on her upper lip for a moment before jutting her jaw out and grazing her lower teeth over her lip so it looked like she was trying to eat her own head.

"Hey. You," she said suddenly, smacking her mouth open and pointed at Helena who raised her eyebrows in a silent question. "I've totally forgotten your name."  
"You've forgotten my...you've known me for over three years!"

"And what an impression you've made! I wanna say...Jeanne."  
"Jean? That's my middle name," Helena chuckled after taking a moment to figure out that was what Hunnigan had said because she'd used the French pronunciation.

"What was I doing?"  
"When?"

"It had something to do with corn."  
"...okay, you've lost me, and I'm beginning to worry this isn't just the opiates talking, I'm gonna go get a doctor," Helena said and was about to exit the room, but Nolan stopped her.

"They're not gonna do anything, they already did all the tests, she's just high, trust me, I know what it looks like," he assured her.  
"I need a nap, and to remember what I was doing," Hunnigan muttered. "Why am I thinking about corn?" she frowned, mostly talking to herself at this point.

"I guess we should go, nothing we can do here," Nolan said and Helena sighed.  
"Yeah, and I gotta take Charlie home," she said. "Ingrid? I'll come pick you up tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure, sure. Cool," Hunnigan nodded. "Pick me up from where?"

"Just...get some rest," Nolan laughed before exiting with Helena. They walked over to Nolan's car where Charlie waited in the comfortably air conditioned vehicle behind a note that informed passers by about it so no one would break in to rescue him. Nolan unlocked the doors and Helena let Charlie out.

"Do you need a ride?"  
"No, I think we'll walk, but thanks," she told Nolan, said goodbye and began heading home.

"Hey, good to see you're all right and that your buddy made it," one of the paramedics from before said as Helena walked by the entrance to the hospital.  
"Oh, hey, you're still here," she said.

"I'm here _again,_ " he corrected with a rueful smile as he leaned to pet Charlie.  
"Thanks for your help earlier."

"It's my job, glad to see y'all made it out alive. You held your own back there, a lot of people would've panicked," he then complimented, and Helena shrugged one shoulder.  
"I was a medic in the army and served in Afghanistan, so I've seen a lot worse."

"No shit? Well, that would require a cool head I imagine," he agreed. They chatted a few moments longer before he had to get back to work, and as Helena watched him get in the ambulance with his partner, she realized she might have just figured out what she wanted to do for a living.

* * *

Hunnigan was in a foul mood and made no attempt to hide it, hoping it would be enough to convince even Skylark that keeping her smartass comments to herself would be the wise thing to do today. She'd checked herself out from the hospital against medical advice the second the 24-hour observation period ended, and instead of going directly to surgery to fix her broken humerus with plates, she was here, working, because this could not wait.

It wasn't bad enough that her arm ached like hell and ibuprofen wasn't enough but she couldn't take anything stronger either because she needed a clear head now. What made it all worse was the news she'd gotten from HR accidentally after the officer who was in charge of the paperwork had emailed her instead of agent Harding who was Helena's handler nowadays, and the reason the paperwork was upsetting was because it was a copy of Helena's letter of resignation.

 _I put my ass on the line for her and she just quits and doesn't even tell me personally, I have to hear about it by accident? I think I'm owed a bit more than that,_ Hunnigan thought furiously, and was glad she was not anywhere near Helena at the moment; even she wasn't immune to saying things she didn't mean when she was angry.

Hunnigan was in Shenandoah Valley, Virginia, sitting in the backseat of one of the agency's SUVs with agent Skylark, heading toward an ordinary looking farmhouse along a dirt road, a vast field of corn extending behind the building as far as the eye could see, a wall of dark green forest edging the field in the distance. Further away stood a silo and a barn, neither any longer used for their intended purpose since the DSO had bought the land and buildings on it several years ago and planted a pair of agents to work the farm. On the surface the silo and the barn were remnants of a time before the farmhouse had been built to the other edge of the field, abandoned after becoming obsolete when the new barn and the new silo had been built closer to the house. On the inside they hid an entrance to Shadow point.

Upon arrival, a farmer/agent welcomed Hunnigan and offered her coffee, which she declined, stating she wanted to get to work. Without further pleasantries, Skylark began to escort Hunnigan to the silo, and the long walk among the field of corn did nothing to improve Hunnigan's mood, especially since she was more than certain Skylark was letting the leaves smack into her on purpose, knowing she wouldn't stay too far behind because the last thing she needed was to get lost in the corn.

"Welcome to Shadow point," Hawke said ceremoniously, waiting at the barn for them, standing by the floorboards that had been pulled aside to reveal a secret door to the underground facility.

"Thank you," Hunnigan muttered as she walked down the steps and through another door which led to the surveillance area, the space rather narrow and small. Beyond the door to the left of the desk and beyond the soundproofed wall was the windowless cell where their guest, one mister Patel, was sitting in the middle of the room, handcuffed to a metal table that was bolted to the concrete floor. Aside from the table and one chair, the room had no furnishings, only two large speakers and four cameras mounted on each of the walls filming everything that happened in the brightly lit room.

"Did you get demoted or why are you slumming it here with us?" Skylark smirked, a snarky callback to when Hunnigan had reminded her of outranking her.  
"How long has he been there?" Hunnigan asked, not acknowledging Skylark's words.

"Since yesterday. We had him in the room in the safehouse until then," Hawke answered. Calling it a room made it sound like a comfortable place to stay, like a hotel room, which it certainly was not. Granted, staying there had to be less humiliating than what it was like here, where he'd been stripped from his clothes, forced to stay awake, and given no option but to use the floor if he needed the toilet because the cell did not include said facilities. Although, judging from the log Hunnigan was reading, he probably had very little need for the toilet since he'd been given nothing but just enough water to keep him alive in the last 36 hours.

"Has he said anything?"  
"Nope," Skylark answered.

"Have all the people he came in contact with been quarantined?" she asked and Skylark scoffed.  
"Are you serious? The dude flew over from Germany, how the hell are we supposed to determine who he came in contact with? Not to mention that by the time we got to the scene, every other passenger on the plane had already left," she snapped.

"I didn't mean that, I meant the staff at the airport," Hunnigan sighed in exasperation. _You really need me to state the obvious for you, huh, you dumbass,_ she added mentally.  
"Yes, and they haven't shown any signs of infection," Hawke answered.

"So we can assume that if he's infected with something it isn't airborne at least," Skylark added.  
"Except he doesn't appear to be showing any signs either so if he's infected, it could be that whatever it is, it's still in its incubation period."

"Always with the silver lining huh," Skylark remarked sarcastically. "What are you even doing here?"  
"I wanted to see him."

"What's there to see?" Skylark scoffed and Hunnigan rolled her eyes. She didn't think he would speak to her either, but this wasn't about him, it was about her. It was about what Helena had said when Hunnigan had called her to ask her about the letter of resignation.

She'd told Hunnigan it was beginning to seem obvious she wouldn't be getting back to field duty anyway thanks to her mental problems, and most importantly, even if she was allowed back, she didn't want to work for an agency that condoned torture, and in the same breath she'd made it clear she couldn't believe Hunnigan would condone it either.

The thing was, she didn't condone it, not blindly, not without a just cause. Would she approve of torturing a pedophile to get information about a ring of others and possibly save countless children from falling victim to them? Absolutely. Would she approve of torturing an elderly parent to find out the location of their criminal child? Never.

Helena, however, didn't see shades of gray and no matter how Hunnigan had justified it to her, she stood her ground and challenged Hunnigan to go see her handiwork for herself. It was easy to authorize trips to black sites when all you had was a name and an accusation; Helena had stated Hunnigan would feel differently if she had to see the suspect and have to accept that despite their presupposed criminal status, they were a person.

 _But I don't feel differently_ , Hunnigan thought as she looked at the screen and the man displayed on it. He was slumped over the table, covering his head with his arm, probably trying to get a moment of rest, but every time he seemed to nod off, Skylark hit a button to bring up the brightness of the lamps in the room and played loud metal music (that mostly just sounded like someone crashing things and screaming) to wake him up.

 _He could end this every time he wants to, all he has to do is talk, but he is choosing not to, it's not my fault, it's his own. It's his own for even getting mixed up in this in the first place, he had to know this could happen._

Unless of course, he'd been coerced. It wasn't underheard of, but if that were the case, Hunnigan suspected he would've told them as much.

Hunnigan didn't bother explaining herself to Skylark, rather focused on the screens when Hawke entered the room to give questioning the man another go. He stood up when Hawke entered the room and to everyone's surprise, he smiled. Hawke opened her mouth to comment on that but before she could say a single word, he began to projectile-vomit, a thick black substance spewing from him and landing on Hawke, quickly covering her.

"What the fuck!" she spluttered and gagged. The man didn't speak, once he was done vomiting, he collapsed on the table with a heavy thud, a smile still on his face, the black thick substance surrounding his mouth making his teeth appear unnaturally white.

"Jer!" Skylark exclaimed and hurried into the room. "You okay?"  
"Do I fuckin' look—" Hawke began to say, her words interrupted by a loud gag as she couldn't fight it back, the contents of her stomach splattering to the floor as she threw up.

"Get out of here and get a damn quarantine team in," Skylark called out and Hunnigan let her know she was already on it.

* * *

"Before I die, I must know...who is the big spoon, you or Helena?" Hawke asked dramatically as she sat on the bed that was inside a see-through a quarantine tent set up in the barn. She would remain there while the team prepared to transport her safely to the medical wing at the DSO headquarters where she'd continue being quarantined for two weeks provided the test results didn't reveal anything alarming.

"Who said you're dying?" Hunnigan frowned, and Hawke exhaled deeply.  
"Fine, no one, on the contrary, aside from being quarantined, I'm just peachy," she said and shrugged, the paper gown she wore crinkling as she did. "Do we know anything more yet?" she then asked.

"Well, the samples taken from Mr. Patel's body confirmed we're not dealing with a virus which explains why we didn't find anything in the initial tests. Sadly, that's all we know so far, I'm hoping the autopsy will answer more questions."  
"So if I'm lucky all I need is some antibiotics, that's something," Hawke said.

"Could be you won't even need that, you might not be infected at all."  
"I'm pretty sure some of that shit ended up in my mouth, but then again, I did throw up, so maybe it didn't have a chance to stay long enough to infect me."

Hunnigan nodded, told Hawke she'd check up on her and Skylark when they were all back in D.C. and at the DSO, and turned to leave. She paused at the door and turned to look over her shoulder.

"Oh, and Jeri? To answer your question...I am," she smirked.

"I knew it!" Hawke yelled triumphantly and Hunnigan chuckled as she made her way to the car waiting to take her home.


	35. Chapter 35

When Hunnigan got home, she found Helena asleep on the couch, the pamphlet from George Washington University on her chest implying she'd fallen asleep while reading it. Her laptop was on the coffee table, displaying a web page titled "EMT basic training program and requirements". It appeared Helena was dedicated to becoming one, and while Hunnigan was glad to see her so excited about it, she would've been lying if she'd said she was okay with her just quitting the DSO.

 _Then again, it's not like I don't understand her desire to leave since Wilkes hasn't allowed her to work in months,_ Hunnigan sighed a little.

"Hey, you," she whispered and nudged Helena gently to wake her up.  
"Oh, God, did you forget my name again?" the younger woman complained sleepily and Hunnigan laughed.

"No, Helena, I didn't," she assured her.  
"Are you still mad at me?" Helena asked and sat up, yawning.

"I was never mad at you," Hunnigan said and took a seat next to Helena.

"You certainly were something at me," Helena said and without Hunnigan needing to even ask, she tucked her fingers under Hunnigan's jacket and eased it off her shoulders, tugging on the left sleeve while Hunnigan leaned in the opposite direction and slipped her arm out from it.

"I...just gave you some attitude," Hunnigan tried dismissing casually, and Helena quirked an eyebrow. "Ugh, fine, maybe I was a little mad and perhaps a bit disappointed, but after having had time to think about it I've come to realize I have no right to be mad at you because it's your life and your decision, and if you want to become an EMT, then that's what you should do."

"It's not like I don't get it, I know you worked so hard for me at the DSO, and I don't want to seem ungrateful for that because I'm not, but...I think we can both agree that the DSO isn't my place," Helena muttered. "Oh, I meant to ask you, would you write a letter of recommendation for me? I need one for my volunteer application," she then said, grabbed the laptop and clicked on an open tab to show Hunnigan the page listing out the process of volunteering at the George Washington University hospital.

"Of course," Hunnigan smiled. "Did you know I studied at GWU?"

"Yes and no," Helena chuckled. "I recognized the logo but I didn't remember where I'd seen it before until I saw it on your shirt," she explained and pointed at the photo collage which featured a photo of Hunnigan playing basketball, wearing a white uniform that had the university's logo on it.

"So, your plan is to volunteer, get the basic certificate from GWU, get licensed, and get a job," Hunnigan summarized and leaned back on the couch, grunting a little when her injury reminded her of how bad an idea it was to move around with it. It had only been a day, but she'd already come to realize how inconvenient it was having only one functioning arm while the other was immobilized by the fracture brace which had been strapped to her body for good measure. She was scheduled to have a plate put in tomorrow, and as much as she hated the idea of having surgery, she hated the idea of needing at least a year if not longer to fully recover and regain mobility more; the surgery allowed her to start the rehabilitation sooner. Not to mention it would save her the trouble of possibly having to wait for a couple of months only to be told she wasn't healing as expected and would require surgery anyway.

"Something along those lines, maybe see about studying more once I've gotten some experience," Helena confirmed.

"Well...let me know if there's anything else I can do to help."  
"Just don't be mad at me."

"I'm not! I wasn't."  
"You are," Helena insisted and Hunnigan groaned.

"I'm not mad _at you_ , I'm just mad in general because my arm hurts and because the case I am working on is turning into a pain in the ass because I have to rely on Skylark and Hawke to investigate, and frankly, they're both complete disasters compared to you," she exhaled deeply.

"Are you trying to flatter me so I wouldn't quit? Because as much as I do love the praise, I am not changing my mind," Helena smirked and Hunnigan chuckled.

"I'm saying it because contrary to what Skylark likes to think, I didn't hire you for your tits and ass, I hired you because you're good at your job," she said and leaned to press gentle kiss onto Helena's lips, still feeling somewhat hesitant about just doing it freely because a part of her was having difficulty adjusting to the fact that it was something she could _do_ now and not just think about secretly on nights she couldn't fall asleep.

She did wonder how long it would take before they would be completely comfortable with each other regarding this. As it was now, they both tended to pause as if to ask for permission before making contact, be it a kiss or a casual touch. It was all well and good for now, but Hunnigan sincerely hoped it wouldn't last because if it did, there would never be a time when Helena would not hesitate to grab her and pin against the wall by pressing her body against Hunnigan's while kissing her hard..

She couldn't say why exactly the thought of getting picked up and thrown on a bed by a lover was so appealing to her. Probably had something to do with her having grown up reading and hearing stories about passionate love affairs, duels, and adventure that tended to all end in the same way; the hero getting the girl, picking her up and carrying her off to the sunset.

Then there were the stories her grandmother had told her about their revered ancestor, the pirate queen calling herself Isabela Black, a woman who certainly had existed but whose heroics and adventures had perhaps been exaggerated a little. Of course, Hunnigan hadn't known that when she'd been just a kid, sitting at the kitchen table and listening to grandma-Ingrid tell the tale of Isabela (whose title always varied between Captain, Admiral, and Queen depending on how tipsy grandma-Ingrid happened to be at the time) setting her ship on fire and crashing it into the fleet chasing her to make a daring escape before swimming an impossible distance to safety where she met the love of her life the moment she set foot on the shore, and thus off to the sunset and the happy ending in her lover's arms it was with her too.

You don't get picked up and carried away by the hero when you're six-foot-one and therefore taller than the boy who is meant to be the hero doing the lifting. And if you were lucky enough to meet a girl who didn't recoil at the mere suggestion of kissing other girls, it certainly was the tall tomboy who was expected to do the lifting.

Hunnigan didn't even know why it mattered so much to her or why she was thinking about it now; Hawke's question about who was the big spoon in the relationship must've brought it up in her mind. That said, it was true that Hunnigan had always been the big spoon which according to all myths and stereotypes made her the boss and the supportive protector of the vulnerable little spoon. She didn't recall even Major ever being the big spoon for her, least of all in the literal sense, on the contrary; they'd always slept back to back, facing away from each other (apart from the times they'd more or less fallen asleep on top of each other after late-night sex, but even then it had been temporary).

 _But Helena...she's different. She has strong arms and a gentle heart, she would—_

"You know you can talk to me about it if you want to, it's not like I'd gossip about it, and I do have a security clearance," Helena said, pulling back from the kiss, leaving Hunnigan feeling stunned and needing a moment to get her mind back on the subject they'd been discussing.

"I can, but I don't want to bother you with that stuff."  
"Ingrid..." Helena said quietly and took Hunnigan's left hand into her own, raised it to her lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. "Talk to me."

Hunnigan sighed, slowly pulled her hand from Helena's and put her arm around the younger woman's shoulders, and she leaned into Hunnigan, wrapping her arm around her midsection as she nuzzled the top of Helena's head and pressed a kiss on it.

"You were right, the suspect was infected but with what, we don't know yet, all we know was it wasn't a virus. Hawke and Skylark are in quarantine, the suspect vomited on Hawke when she went to interrogate him," she muttered into Helena's hair.

"...is Hawke okay?"  
"As far as we can tell, yes."

"That's a relief."  
"Agreed."

"So, what happened to the suspect?"

"He died. We don't know who he was, his passport was fake and running his face through the system we got a handful of hits but all for different names and identities, we have no way of knowing who he really was let alone who he worked for, or what his motive was."

"Sadly, I'm sure you'll have a chance to find out since I doubt this was the last of it."

"Yeah," Hunnigan exhaled, not really able or very interested in carrying on the conversation because the pulsating pain in her arm was becoming overwhelming, every heartbeat sending another thump of pain to the injury, radiating from there up to her shoulder and neck, and down to her wrist and hand.

Helena noticed this and without asking went to the medicine cabinet in the kitchen and returned with a glass of water and bottle of pills. She poured out two tablets of OxyContin onto Hunnigan's palm and she washed them down with water.

"Thank you," she said as Helena put the empty glass away for her. "It's ridiculous that I can give birth to a ten pound baby with no epidural or anything, but a little broken arm and I'm incapacitated."  
"Why on Earth would you not take an epidural?" Helena asked and Hunnigan chuckled a little.

"Because I'm an idiot who thought that if a doctor says the baby will be born on a certain date, the baby will respect that and will not arrive two weeks early, meaning I felt perfectly comfortable agreeing to play the band's anniversary gig despite being nine months pregnant."

"Are you serious?" Helena scoffed.  
"Yes, and thus my son was born in the backstage of the Music Hall of Williamsburg."

"Okay, I'm sorry, but yes, you're such an idiot."  
"I know, but at least he's got an interesting story to tell on first dates," Hunnigan laughed and Helena did too, slowly growing more serious as she took a moment before speaking again.

"I gotta ask...why do you work for the DSO? I mean, you've got all kinds of skills and talent, you wouldn't have to—"

"First of all...the band is just for fun, not a steady source of income, and I wouldn't want to play for a living, having my livelihood depend on gigs would suck the fun out of it. Secondly, I know you've had your bubble burst regarding the methods we resort to at times, but the agency means a lot to me, it is my life's work. I don't want to quit. I don't want you to quit either because I think you're a damn good agent, but I understand your reasons," Hunnigan explained. "Please, don't hate me over this."

"I don't. I wouldn't. I just...don't like it."

"It's not like every suspect is hauled off to a black site where I personally flog them until they tell me what I want to hear. We don't waterboard people, we don't use stress poses, it's just...sleep deprivation and isolation mostly, and I know that's not harmless but it's what we do when we're not left with any other option. I understand why you don't approve of it, but you have to agree that in some circumstances it is worth it."

"I've heard the speech before, and I still don't agree with it. Furthermore, just because you don't know of any waterboarding happening doesn't mean it isn't done."

"If using enhanced interrogation techniques on someone would have prevented your squad from getting ambushed in Afghanistan, don't you think it would've been worth it?" Hunnigan asked and regretted saying it the moment she'd finished speaking. Helena stared at her in disbelief for a long moment, her jaw tightening as she bit her teeth together.

"That's a low blow," she snapped, grabbed the empty glass from the coffee table and went to the kitchen, the sound of running water shortly following as she rinsed the glass before placing it in the dish rack.  
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Yeah, no shit," Helena muttered as she walked out of the kitchen furiously.  
"Where are you going?" Hunnigan asked when Helena put her boots and jacket on, then grabbed a leash and patted the side of her thigh to summon Charlie.

"Out!" she snapped at Hunnigan and left, slamming the door behind her.

"...ssshit," Hunnigan hissed slowly, ran her hand over her face and sighed. _Great. Just great._

* * *

Helena was annoyed but not because of _what_ Hunnigan had said but because she was right; the fact that Helena would've gone back and tortured the details of the ambush out of someone in heartbeat if given the chance to change the past made her a hypocrite which only added insult to injury.

"I guess this is what they call character growth," Helena muttered to Charlie who sat by her as she stood in the apartment building's courtyard, smoking. She'd taken a short walk with Charlie before returning here.

Not so long ago a similar situation would've caused her to leave in a huff and stay gone, seething for days, unwilling to acknowledge that she too had been in the wrong. Now, however, the anger was...different. Still white hot, but not a priority. Taking the time to think about the consequences of her words and actions were more important than satisfying the idiotic yet often inevitable and overwhelming urge to hurt the other person in some way, to get the last word, to be the loudest before storming off refusing to listen to reason. Helena didn't know if it was just that she didn't want to hurt Hunnigan or if it was something that would apply to everyone. Regardless, she didn't want to take this further.

She didn't want to wander around and end up at a bar, she didn't want to drink too much and then smoke too much, and finally end up God only knew where and with whom, all done just because somewhere in the back of her mind she vehemently believed that making bad decisions and stupid mistakes which ultimately only hurt Helena, would somehow be the equivalent of getting even with Hunnigan.

Thinking about it now and realizing how incredibly idiotic it was, Helena didn't even want to admit she'd never spared a second thought to that behavior until recently.

"Come on, let's go home," she said to Charlie, put out her cigarette and headed back inside.  
"Oh, you're back," Hunnigan said when Helena entered the apartment and took Charlie's leash off.

"You're surprised," Helena commented as she hung her jacket and kicked off her boots.  
"Honestly, I am, I wasn't expecting to see you until morning at the earliest," Hunnigan muttered and Helena sighed deeply. Just when had Hunnigan learned to know her well enough to read her this accurately?

"Well, yeah, but this is, uh...it's a new thing I'm trying, this whole thinking things through before going on a homicidal rampage," Helena said somewhat awkwardly and Hunnigan smiled.  
"Thank you for coming back. Now...I know we probably need to talk more about this and everything but I'm really, really tired, and I have surgery in the morning, so...I need to get some sleep," she said.

"Oh, of course, I'm...sorry. Do you need a hand with anything?" Helena inquired and Hunnigan nodded a little.  
"Someone's gotta undress me," she grinned and Helena chuckled.

They went to the bedroom and after arranging the pillows into a pile to help Hunnigan be able to sleep upright, she went to the dresser and sat by it as Helena helped free her arm from the sling it was in.

"I'll be sure to include all of this in my letter of recommendation for you volunteering at the hospital," Hunnigan said as Helena went to stand in front of her on her knees.  
"I appreciate it," Helena said with a smile. She leaned closer to Hunnigan and began to unbutton the shirt she was wearing, both of them knowing this was not the thing Hunnigan needed assistance with —and given enough time and practice she probably would've managed on her own all the way— but Helena wanted to do this.

"Listen...I want you to know that I really am sorry about what I said. It was uncalled for."

"Maybe it was, but at the end of the day...you're right. About everything. Let's just call it even and leave it, talking about it in circles won't change anything," Helena said softly as she slowly continued unbuttoning Hunnigan's shirt, the intimacy of the act not going unnoticed by either of them.

Helena suddenly felt her breath catch up in her throat when she noticed the way Hunnigan was regarding her; with a gentleness Helena didn't think anyone had ever beheld her before. It made her feel vulnerable and even a little raw, definitely disarmed, but most importantly it made her feel loved, and it made her feel love so intense toward Hunnigan she swore she could feel her heart literally swell in her chest just thinking about her.

"Hunnigan..?" she said quietly once she was done unbuttoning the shirt.  
"Yes?"

Helena wanted to tell her she loved her. They hadn't said it to each other yet and despite what one might very easily assume after all the time they'd spent together just making out and cuddling, Helena didn't want to leave it on that, she didn't want to base it all on an assumption no matter how fair the assumption was.

"You have great taste in underwear," she chickened out and Hunnigan chortled.

"Thank you," she said as Helena eased the sleeve over Hunnigan's left arm and then her injured right arm before pulling the shirt off completely. She was about to stand up and turn to look away to give Hunnigan some privacy to remove the recently complimented bra when Hunnigan grabbed the waist of Helena's jeans.

"Ah!" Helena yelped in surprise when Hunnigan pulled her back down and then to herself, wrapping her uninjured arm around Helena tightly.

"I love you," she said against the side of Helena's neck, her voice quiet and earnest. "I love you," she repeated, squeezing Helena tighter as she held onto her.  
"I love you too," Helena whispered and returned the embrace.


End file.
